


get free

by lovages



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Minor Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester, Omega Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Supportive Mary Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovages/pseuds/lovages
Summary: The Winchester family is divided. Mary and John have been separated for years. Dean went with Mary and the Campbells and Sam stayed with John. When John declares his intent to run for president, he requests Mary reunite with him to improve his chances. She agrees, which means a world of change for Dean, who had flourished as an omega without his father’s influence. He has to give up his alpha boyfriend Benny, and learn to get along with his brother again, but worst of all, as an unmated male omega, he has to cover up his designation.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 57
Kudos: 201





	1. Chapter 1

“Say goodbye, Winchester!” 

Dean looked up from his tablet to see Charlie at the door to his office. She wore a manic grin, and was holding up a t-shirt bearing his father’s face. Beneath it, the words “Winchester 2012.”

“To your freedom!” She waved the shirt around. “John Winchester is officially the democratic presidential nominee!” 

“Get that outta my face,” Dean grumbled, going back to trawling through his code. 

Charlie balled the shirt up and bounced into his office, shutting the door behind her. “Come on, you’ve gotta be enjoying this a little bit. Your dad’s gonna be the President. Of the whole fricken country. That’s insane. He’s gonna be POTUS. And you're gonna be… FOSOTUS.”

“I don't even wanna know.” 

“First Omega Son of–” 

“Stop it,” Dean hissed. “You know we can't talk about that. Or joke about it.”

Charlie huffed, finally slumping in her seat. “I hate this.”

“Preaching to the choir, Charlie. You think I wanna walk around wearing alpha cologne and popping suppressants?”

“You were just getting comfortable with yourself too,” she complained, pouting. “I mean, I love your family, but they weren't really on the up and up re: omega rights. And I wasn't crazy about Benny, but you know, he was an alpha. And you weren't freaking out about it.” 

Dean dropped his head in his hands and sighed. He hated talking about Benny. It was the worst part about this campaign. Giving up his identity, pretending to be something he wasn't? Fine, he'd swallow that. 

But having to break up with Benny because they weren't mated? He loved Benny. He’d never expected to, but he definitely caught feelings. That had been the worst part.

If he didn't pretend to be an alpha, he had to be a mated omega. The choice he was given was no choice at all. 

“Is there a point to all this?” he asked, putting his tablet away. No way he was going to get anything done tonight. 

“Yes, actually,” Charlie said, straightening up. “Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” 

“I don't need to get over Benny.” He started to pack his things away. 

It was sadly true. The break up had been a good eight weeks ago. He wished he'd been  _ in _ love with Benny. That they'd been at the right place in life to mate and marry, but they'd only been together a few months. Maybe the potential had existed, but it'd been obliterated by John Winchester’s presidential campaign. 

“Fine, but you’re about to go into heat.”

Dean froze. That shouldn't have been obvious. He's been dousing himself in scent blocker. 

Charlie rolled her eyes. “I know your cycle, and I know you slipped up on the suppressants. I'm your best fucking friend, Dean. Also, you left your phone unlocked, and I saw the text you sent your mom. Give me some credit.” She sighed, and he smelled her sympathy. “This sucks, alright? You have to hide who you are for fuck knows how long… and you're somehow also supposed to find a mate before the truth gets out? It's not right.” 

Hearing it from her, knowing that she cares about him, made Dean relent. This entire year has been a shitstorm, and he knew it would be, but things had been relatively simple for him until now. An appearance here, a dinner there, smile for the cameras, and he was done. But now, everything would change. He's already been asked to give a few interviews with Sam. 

Until now, he'd lied by omission. Once they shone the spotlight on him, the lie would become his truth. He'd have to commit to it. 

“It's fucked up,” he agreed quietly. 

“Yeah, but what's worse is that you're just taking it lying down. The Dean Winchester I know would go down swinging.” 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you want me to do, Charlie? I can't wreck this. My mom has been out there in front of the cameras for months, pretending she loves him and trying to make her marriage work. All I gotta do is shut up.” 

Charlie considered him for a moment. Her eyes take on a gleam that Dean knew could only mean one thing: trouble. 

“No,” he said firmly. 

“I didn't say anything!” 

“I don't wanna hear it.” 

“Just let me–” 

“I said no, Charlie” 

* * *

Dean couldn't shake the feeling that everyone in the bar knew exactly who he was. The hair at the nape of his neck prickled. There were probably a dozen cell phones out, filming him right this instant. 

“Will you relax?” Charlie muttered in his ear. 

Dean let out a slow, even breath. “Nope.” He shook his head. “Tried. Can't. They know who I am, Charlie. The news vans are probably waiting outside. Or someone's uploading a picture to Twitter or fucking Snapchat or something and I'm fucked. I gotta go. Come on.”

“Shut up,” Charlie growled, actually fucking growled, and lockup arms with his so he couldn't jump off the bar stool and run for the hills. “And look around. What about the bearded guy over there? He's like a twinky Benny. Definitely a beta. He's cute.”

Dean forced himself to look. No shit. He'd be hard pressed to find a beta male he didn't find cute. Something about them just revved his engine. Maybe it was the scent, the way they seemed to have conventionally alpha features just softened slightly– who the fuck knew? 

“No,” he said, looking away as soon as soon as the guy made eye contact.

“Dean, I promise you this isn't gonna get out.” Charlie leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Beta bar, remember? Except for you, obviously. And even if it did get out, it won't be that bad.” 

“You can't actually promise that.” Dean stared her down, and after a few seconds of silence, Charlie relented. 

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Can we at least dance? Or is grinding on strangers also off the table?”

Dean considered it. He's had one beer, and was currently nursing the last of Charlie’s fruity drink. He was a little tipsy, but nowhere near enough to lose all inhibition. But it wouldn't hurt to decompress a little. There was no law against ‘alphas’ dancing in clubs. Besides, he already knew his excursion was gonna get found out, and he'd be crucified for it, so why not have a little fun? 

“Okay. Let's do it.” He drained the last of Charlie’s drink in one swallow while she whooped and egged him on. Taking his own second half drunk beer, he spun off the barstool and walked right into someone. The drink spilled onto the stranger, slipped from his hands and splattered the sticky floor with more glass and booze. 

Dean stumbled back, and almost tripped over the barstool, but a hand grabbed him and held him fast. 

“Shit, sorry.” He grasped the arm holding him up, blinking. 

“It's alright.” The man’s voice sent a thrill up Dean’s skin. It was rough enough that it rode the edge of a perpetual growl. “Are you okay?” 

Dean could feel the heat of the hand still grasping him through his shirt. 

“Yeah. Sorry,” he repeated, gesturing to the guy’s ruined shirt. This was a mistake. He should walk away. Instead, he said, “Let me buy you a drink, make up for that.”

The man frowned– blue eyes, dark hair, fucking amazing mouth, Dean noted– and let go. “You don't have to do that.” 

“I want to,” Dean blurted. 

“Oookay, that’s my cue,” Charlie said. She pointed at the dance floor. “I’ll be over there.”

The man cocked his head, confused. Shit, he was cute. He was wearing a suit, but no tie, and the top couple buttons were undone. He had a throat that begged to be snuffled and necked. 

And he smelled amazing. Betas usually had such mild scents. Dean had gotten a little whiff of his scent (despite the olfactory chaos at the bar). Besides there was no mistaking the attitude. An alpha would've been a dick from the jump. 

Sure, the guy was a little on the big side, but he was still a little shorter than Dean, and Dean was. Well. Pretty big for an omega. What if the guy was an omega, too? The thought makes Dean a little dizzy. That actually sounded ludicrously hot to his tipsy brain right now. 

The guy considered his offer but shook his head. “Let me,” he said instead, and flagged down the bartender. He ordered for himself, and waited expectantly for Dean.

Yup. Definitely a beta. 

Alphas got all up in your space. Dean lost count of the number of times some knot-head ordered for him, and then continued to make a whole bunch of other choices for him. In fact, even Benny was guilty of the whole drink-ordering faux pas. Dean had actually enjoyed knocking Benny down a peg or two, explaining why that was so damn annoying. 

But this guy… damn was he cute. Dean could see how he was almost built like an alpha, but without all the unpleasant machismo and posturing. 

“I’m Cast–” the guy hesitated, then stuck his hand out. “I’m Cas. Just Cas.”

Dean shook his hand, suppressing a chuckle. “Hey Just Cas. I'm Dean.” 

“You have a very nice smile, Dean,” Cas said sincerely. 

“Um,” Dean said intelligently. Was that a line? He felt himself beginning to blush, and tried to hide it by pretending to awkwardly look for Charlie. “Let me just– sorry, I came here with a friend and she’s–” he caught a flash of red hair and yellow tights on the dance floor and relaxed. “I see her. Never mind. Anyway, um, thanks.” 

The bartender slid the beers towards them, and Cas handed Dean’s over. 

“Would you care to sit with me for a while, Dean? It’s quieter in the VIP section.” 

“Sure,” Dean managed. 

He hasn’t even realized there was a VIP section. And this guy had access to it? When they waded past the crowd to it, the bouncer stepped aside unprompted. A beautiful woman dressed to the nines waved Cas over, but he shook his head and settled across from Dean at an empty booth. Dean was officially impressed. 

“So what do you do, Cas?” 

Cas fidgeted with his beer for a moment, peeling the label back. He seemed reluctant, but eventually answered. “I'm a lawyer. Considering a career change but I doubt it will actually come about. What about you?” 

“I own this tiny tech startup,” Dean said, aiming for modest and ending up closer to self-deprecating. 

“Oh?” Castiel seemed genuinely interested. “Apps?”

“Some. Wearables, too. Car stuff mostly. It’s real nerdy.” Dean didn’t want to get into the specifics. In fact, he regretted steering them towards this topic. Naming his company would out him, if Cas hadn't recognized him already. 

“I minored in computer science,” Cas said, nodding along despite Dean’s shitty, vague answer. “I’m probably woefully outdated, though.” 

Dean latched onto the change in subject. “Where'd you go?”

“Harvard.” Cas smiled when Dean whistled lowly. “What brings you out here tonight, Dean?” 

Dean shrugged. “Last night of freedom.”

One drink turned into three. 

They talked about everything and nothing, but it felt perfect. Everything Cas said was the right thing. They were clicking. It was much more than Dean expected for a quick heat hookup. 

Cas made a joke about needing tech support with his phone, and Dean found himself beside Cas in the dark, velvet booth. Something glittered like diamonds, the glass decor or the lights, Dean wasn’t sure. 

He knew he’d been laughing before he kissed Cas. 

Cas, whose lips were soft and warm, and tasted of a chocolate stout. Everything about him was so rich and heady and warm that Dean found himself wanting to climb into Cas’ lap. He smelled fucking amazing, too. Like woodsmoke and fallen leaves and the dark earth of a wild forest. Dean wanted to bury himself in the scent. 

And then Cas was kissing him back. For a few heated moments, Dean enjoyed being the singular focus of attention of this stranger. It was wonderful. Cas kissed like he was determined to ace a test on it, with an intensity that made Dean weak in the knees. 

They parted to pant against each other, and Cas shocked him by burying his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck. It was such an alpha move that if Dean didn’t know better, he’d probably make a run for it. Instead, he ran a hand through Cas’ hair, holding him close. Cas inhaled sharply and let the heated breath out raggedly against Dean’s throat.

“You’re in heat,” he growled, his scent flaring with arousal. 

Dean shivered. Betas growled sometimes. It wasn't unheard of. More importantly, the cat was out of the bag. He was hoping to pass for a beta tonight, but now Cas knew. Someone knew he was an omega. 

“Y-yeah. Will be. Soon,” Dean managed shakily, as Cas snuffled at his throat, searching for where his scent would be at his strongest– behind the ears, at the curve of his throat, where a mating bite would go. 

Cas pulled back, and his eyes were blown dark, lips wet and red. He looked sinful. “Dean, do you want me?” 

One of his hands gripped Dean’s middle, the other rested on his shoulder, both hot as brands. Fuck, Dean wanted those hands on his skin. He wanted their bodies as close as he could get them, and so what if Cas didn't pop a knot? Running his hands along Cas’ shoulders when they kissed was enough to confirm that despite the lithe figure he cut in his suit, Cas was built like a goddamn brick house. Dean had no doubt this guy could fuck his brains out. 

“Yeah,” Dean panted. “Yes– shit.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Cas let go of him, and Dean bit his tongue so he wouldn't whine. It was Charlie. Dean texted her back hastily to not wait up for him. He was more than fine. 

“Everything okay?” Cas sounded calmer, like he wasn't five seconds from jumping Dean’s bones anymore. 

“Yeah.” Dean ran a hand over his face and chuckled weakly. “I’m good. It’s all good.” 

It was stupid to feel cold and clammy, especially since the best this would ever be was a one night stand… but he did. And it wasn't the fear of being found out. It was more that his body wanted to be wrapped around Cas’, and felt it was being denied. 

Cas wrapped an arm around his shoulder and Dean leaned in gratefully. That Cas had known what he was feeling without needing to be told should've been a warning. An obvious sign. 

Instead Dean took it as a signal of an attentive and responsive bedmate. Which was just what the doctor ordered. 

“Hey. Meant what I said,” Dean murmured. “Want you, Cas.” 

Everywhere that Cas touched him felt electrified. His own scent was starting to take on undertones of Cas’, and that was enough to short circuit Dean’s brain. Cas was scent-marking him. The long fingers rubbing circles along his shoulder. The way Cas buried his nose in Dean’s hair, almost nuzzling him. 

“You smell amazing,” Cas said, sounding like he'd been chewing on broken glass. 

Five more minutes and Dean was gonna lose it. He’d get slick and try to present and–

“Let's get outta here, Cas.”

Cas blinked. “Okay. I have a hotel room…?”

No. It'd take too long. Too many people who could recognize him. He couldn't stand the idea that he'd get caught leaving the place smelling of slick and heat.

Normally, it would be an unsafe, unwise decision, but–

“My place,” Dean decided. He tried to get up but Cas actually hitched him closer. 

“One for the road,” he said, and drew Dean in for a kiss. It was short, but heated, a slide of wet lips and tongue, and the intent was clear. Cas wanted him, too. 

Dean doesn't remember much about the drive over. 

Cas had a chauffeured car at his disposal, so Dean left his at the club for Charlie to take home. Normally, he wouldn't dream of letting her drive Baby, but these were extenuating circumstances. It was probably the last time he was going to get laid until his father became President. If he did. Otherwise, a short three months later, this would all be over. Dean could go back to his life. 

Maybe he'd pursue Cas for real then. 

For now, he accepted tonight for what it was. Hot, fun, but temporary. 

“Do you have a roommate?” Cas asked as they rode the elevator up to Dean’s loft. 

Cas held onto his hand as they left the club. On the drive to his place. Actually, he hadn't let go at all. It was kinda sweet. Coming from an alpha, Dean would've found it a little possessive. Cas’ thumb stroked across his wrist as the elevator doors opened, and Dean shivered. 

“Uh, no,” Dean said, walking down the short hallway. “Charlie– the friend I left at the club? Works with me, practically my sister, well. She crashes here sometimes. It's close to work. Where we work. She's kind of my business partner.” 

Dean was rambling. His hands shook as he tried to unlock the door. Cas was pressed against his back, one long line of heat from the mouth at the nape of Dean’s neck to the hands grasping his waist, to the knee pressed between his. 

“Shit, Cas,” Dean half-laughed, dropping the keys. The door was still infuriatingly locked. “Gimme a minute, Christ.” 

“Pick it up,” Cas murmured. It wasn't quite an order. For one, there was a low, teasing lilt to his voice. Almost smug. 

This uppity beta was trying to make Dean present. There was the matter of his scent, though. It clouded Dean’s senses, and made him want to obey, but there was no questioning the spike of anticipation in Cas’ scent.

Fine. Two could play this game. Cas would see he was gonna get more than he bargained for. Dean bent over, pressing back, but instead of feeling the hard heat of an erection, Cas shifted to accommodate him. And then his large hands pressed down, palming and kneading his ass. 

Dean bit back a groan. He felt a thumb slide down his crack, through two layers of clothes, and fuck if that wasn't enough for his body to throb with need. Arousal lanced through him like a shock and he realized two things acutely: he was well and truly in heat, and he was leaking slick. 

“Shh, shh,” Cas murmured, running his fucking amazing hands up Dean’s back. “Get the door open, Dean. I’ll take care of you.” 

Three things. Dean was apparently moaning and flooding the entire floor with his scent while he presented for a stranger in the hallway to his apartment. 

Dean barely managed to get the door open, and then Cas manhandled him inside. He got shoved inside roughly, shoulder catching against the coat hook on the back of the door. 

The furnace of Cas’ mouth left his to kiss an apology against Dean’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Gosh, he was sweet. Dean grinned. “Fine, I'm fine, get back up here.”

Cas gladly returned, kissing him to within an inch of his life. He was already undressing Dean, which was all kinds of hot. “Bedroom?” he asked, when they were forced to part so he could pull Dean’s shirt off over his head. 

“Round the corner,” Dean panted, reaching for Cas’ belt. He clumsily undid it as Cas nipped and sucked at his throat. Cas seemed fixated on it. Very alpha-like, which was fucking fantastic to his heat-addled brain. 

His loft was laid out in an L-shape. A little odd, but it gave him the corner apartment, and a modicum of privacy when he was entertaining. It was a modest place, but yeah, he enjoyed the hell out of the large glass windows and exposed brick walls. He favored leather and wood over the industrial chrome look, so aside from the appliances in the generous kitchen, everything else felt homey and warm. Almost cozy. And Dean loved it that way, even if he wouldn't admit it aloud on pain of death. 

Not that Cas was appreciating any of that. In fact, his sole focus was Dean, which was more than a little gratifying. 

Dean stumbled into his ‘room’ as Cas nudged and guided him clumsily. By then Dean had managed to undo Cas’ fly, and he dipped a hand in eagerly– 

And froze. 

“Dean,” Cas said, like a prayer. 

That was a knot. As in, Cas was an alpha. With a knot in his pants. Cas sounded wrecked, and he smelled amazing, now that Dean knew exactly what he was up against. 

It wasn't enough to keep him going, though. Dean let go, and stepped back.

Cas started to follow, but frowned when he caught the change in Dean’s scent. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Cas was an alpha. Dean ran his hands through his hair and sighed. Goddamn it. 

Despite the turmoil in his brain, he felt his body gear up for it, heat ratcheting up to a fever. He could get knotted tonight, and that thought was enough to get him slick enough to practically soak his underwear. All other rational thought paled in the face of that knowledge. 

“Dean…?” Cas reached out, and seemed to think better of it. His hands dropped to his sides. His voice went quiet. “Would you like me to leave?” 

“No!” Dean blurted, surprising them both. “No, it's just, you're an alpha.”

Cas squinted. “And you’re an omega…”

There it was. Out in the open for the first time in months. Cas didn't hiss it like it was a dirty secret, or like it was an annoying fact of life befitting of grudging acceptance. Dean didn’t know what to say. How to explain. He shook his head instead and closed the distance between them. 

This was fine. It didn't change anything. In fact, it all worked in Cas’ favor, really. 

Dean didn’t care for bossy, domineering alphas. 

He dropped to his knees and started to tug Cas’ pants down, but instead of stepping out of them, Cas stared at him warily. 

“Dean, you’re in heat, so I fear your ability to consent–!” Cas broke off with a hiss, hips bucking as Dean mouthed his impressive erection through the cotton of his boxer briefs. 

Well if that wasn't something Dean had never heard from an alpha before. 

Cas caught his hands, stilling him. “Are you sure? For a moment it seemed…”

That was some impressive self-control. Dean would be offended if he couldn’t smell how aroused Cas really was. 

“I’m sure,” Dean insisted, hurriedly. “Really. I’m real sure, I promise.” 

At this point his brain was focused on a single objective. After a second longer of hesitation, his hands were released. 

Dean tugged the boxers down, mouth watering at being so close to the apex of Cas’ irresistible scent. It didn't hurt that Cas was pretty well-endowed. Yet. Heh. Matter of fact, he probably passed well-endowed a few miles back. Dean wanted that cock filling him, his mouth or ass or wherever he could get it. He swiped his tongue along the fat head, which was shiny with precum, and got to his feet, smiling at the guttural sound he drew from Cas. 

“Get naked, alpha,” he whispered, practically rubbing himself against Cas. He wasn't sure if he was stocked in the alpha variety, so he asked, “Condoms?”

Cas looked at him with glazed, almost reverential eyes. God, he was so beautiful. “Back pocket,” he said, and stepped out of his pants. He pulled them up, and after some rifling produced a box.

Dean raised an eyebrow. That was optimistic. 

“Be prepared?” Cas actually smirked. 

“Fuck yes.” Dean grinned into the kiss as Cas crashed into him. 

He yelped in surprise as his feet were swept out from under him, but the next thing he knew, he was on his back, sinking into the memory foam. Cas was on top of him before he could get his breath back, parting his thighs and settling between the spread of his legs. Slick smeared everywhere, and Dean could smell himself. It was filthy and insanely hot. 

“Your scent is unreal, Dean,” Cas murmured, dipping his head to mouth at a nipple. 

If he could form a coherent thought, Dean would ask why he kept saying that. 

Instead, he whined, wildly desperate for more. His body was crying out for it, fevered, sensitive skin begging for touch, hole spasming over the emptiness as slick seeped out of him. 

“Come on, already!” Dean gripped Cas’ hair, writhing so their cocks were lined up, and he could finally get some relief. 

“Stay still,” Cas growled, pinning his hands down. 

The omega in Dean went limp at the order. For a few agonizing moments, he just waited. Cas slid lower, leaving a hot trail of kisses down his chest. He pressed a kiss to the head of Dean’s cock, which stood at attention, red and aching. Dean could feel the tremors that shook his body as Cas parted his legs and pressed his mouth right to the source. No alpha had ever done that for Dean before. Betas, sure. Omegas, definitely. Dean whimpered and begged– what else could he do? Cas was eating him out like he was dessert, and Dean felt like he could come just from that. 

He didn’t, though. The heat had its hold on him, and the demands were absolute. 

“Please, Cas, fuck me,” Dean begged, burning with need. 

Any other situation– heck, any other night and Dean would be thoroughly embarrassed. He didn't beg. He certainly didn't beg alpha knotheads. 

Cas hushed him gently, sitting up, nose and lips and chin glistening obscenely. The sight was enough to make Dean’s cock jerk, for his hole to flutter in anticipation, more slick leaking out of him. Two fingers pressed into him, and Dean went taut as a bow, grinding hungrily down on them. 

He watched, beleaguered as Cas ripped a packet open with his teeth and slid the condom down his cock one-handed. Show off. A third finger slid into Dean, scissoring and stretching, finding his prostate. 

“Cas!” he cried out, cock jerking against his belly, smearing wet lines of precum. 

“I've got you,” Cas murmured, palming his legs further open. “Dean,” he petted Dean’s belly, then grasped Dean’s cock in one hand while the other guided his own cock to Dean’s body.

Cas meant to press in gently, but Dean felt himself ease open with no resistance at all. It felt like his channel was made specifically for Cas’ knot. It felt right. It felt so fucking good, Dean already saw stars. 

“Dean,” Cas managed, strained, all sense and composure lost. His pretty features were screwed up in agonized bliss.

Dean felt the same way. Their bodies fit together. Cas was pretty big, thick and long in the best ways, but the way he filled Dean was almost enough to slake the heat. Almost. He just needed that big fat knot in him. Any minute now. Needed it filling him up until he was stuffed and sated. 

Cas chuckled, breathless, sweat dripping down his nose, and Dean realized he’d said it out loud. 

“Of course, Dean. Anything for you.” 

Fucking sweet-talker. He shouldn't be coherent enough for that. 

And then he started to move, and Dean pretty much hung on for dear life. Cas fucked him into the bed, powerful thrusts actually shoving Dean up a few inches. Dean was delirious with pleasure, overstimulated and well on his way to cresting on an orgasm, unable to focus on a single point of pleasure when it felt like his whole body was one big erogenous zone. Cas’ thighs slapped against his, and he relished the obscene squelches as he dripped more and more slick. 

Cas folded Dean’s legs up to his chest, and Dean whimpered as it drew Cas in deeper within him. Oh fuck, that was amazing. The shift in position put Cas closer, on top of him, and Cas took advantage of it by latching onto a sensitive nipple and sucking hard. 

Dean shook under the onslaught of pleasure, hips bucking to meet every thrust, and then suddenly, sharply, it was too much. He was over the edge and falling. Every limb locked in place as Dean came with a cry. 

Dean struggled to breathe as he came back to himself. Cas’ cock was still inside him, but not yet tied with a knot. The alpha loomed above him, idly thumbing the other nipple. It sent tingles through Dean’s spent body, and he shivered. 

“You're very sensitive,” Cas observed, eyes practically glowing. 

He dragged his fingers down Dean’s chest, and swirled them them through the cum Dean had spilled on himself. As Dean watched, Cas brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. The sight made Dean whimper, his cock jerking a few more feeble stripes of spunk. 

“And generous.” Cas flashed him a wolfish smile and bent to kiss him. “So beautiful.” 

Dean shivered again as Cas ran his hands down his chest, that sharp, clever gaze raking over every inch of him. And then Cas gripped his waist, using it as leverage to pull out and fuck into him, hard. 

It should be a sin for it to feel this good after he’d come, Dean thought. 

He moved to wrap his legs around Cas’ hips, pulling them both closer and settling in a more comfortable position. 

“Come for me, alpha,” he encouraged, threading a hand through Cas’ hair. 

Cas beamed at him, and got to work. Concentration etched a frown onto his pretty face as he labored to fill Dean. It seemed Cas was closer to orgasm than his demeanor let on, because a few thrusts later, his knot swelled, so big that Dean’s breath hitched as they locked in place. 

Cas collapsed on him with a muffled groan, burying his nose in Dean’s neck. His teeth toyed with the skin, but he didn’t bite or mark Dean. It made Dean’s heart race though, and by the time Cas let go, Dean wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. 

“Sorry,” Cas murmured. “I didn’t ask.” 

That was true, but Dean couldn’t find it in him to be upset. 

One thing was for certain. His heat was slaked. The bone-deep satisfaction of being filled and joined, the chemistry of scents that flooded his brain with blissful peace… all that was new. Kind of like mating. The stuff of novels and movies. Or just really good sex. Dean was too tired for that train of thought. 

“You okay?” Cas asked, shifting them onto their sides so he wasn't crushing Dean. 

“Better,” Dean slurred, running a hand through Cas’ hair and not letting himself think of it as grooming. “Fuckin’ ‘mazin’.” 

* * *

Dean stirred back to consciousness when Cas’ knot slipped out of him. 

He grimaced at the sensation of warm slick oozing out of him, and the slimy latex slide of the condom. He tried to sit up, but Cas’ arm around his middle stopped him. 

“Stay,” Cas suggested. “I’ll clean up.”

Dean bit his lip. “Okay.”

Cas sat up. “Bathroom?”

“By the front door.”

Cas bent to kiss him. “Be right back.”

Dean lay still, not wanting to make a bigger mess of the bed. He wasn't gonna change the sheets now, and he didn't want to sleep in a bigger wet spot. He probably ought to invest in one of those slick-absorbent mattress protectors. 

Or not. He didn’t foresee many sexual encounters in his future. 

He watched lazily as Cas wobbled onto his feet, and pulled off the condom with a grimace. The thing was so full he struggled with tying it off before dumping it in the trash can. Then he gingerly bent to sift through the jumble of clothes for his underwear. 

Slender hips, a full, tight ass, muscled thighs...

Cas was one sexy motherfucker. 

He seemed to sense Dean’s gaze because he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. 

“Leave them on the floor for now. Why ruin the view?” Dean teased. 

Cas laughed. “Don't objectify me.”

Dean grinned as Cas left, pushing himself up on an elbow to check his phone. Baby was safe– and more importantly, of course, Charlie had gotten home safely. Good. 

Cas returned in a few minutes with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. He hesitated for a moment and Dean’s cheeks colored at the thought of Cas spreading his legs open to clean up the mess of slick and jizz. It was too intimate. Cas seemed to think the same thing, because he surrendered the washcloth with a sheepish smile. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back turned to Dean, and sighed. “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted. 

Huh. It must be the post sex haze that kept Dean from overthinking that confession. 

Instead, he took advantage of the privacy and made short work of mopping himself clean. “Seemed like you knew what you were doing, for a virgin.” 

“I’m not. I meant,” Cas huffed, scent blooming with embarrassment. “I’ve never gone home with someone I just met.” 

“Ah. Me neither.”

Cas looked over his shoulder curiously. 

Dean, anticipating the worst, scoffed. “If you're gonna try and slut-shame me after what just happened–”

“I wasn't,” Cas interrupted gently. 

“Then what?”

“I just thought it was interesting we both pretended to be experienced when we’re both novices.” 

Dean tossed the soiled washcloth aside and pulled the sheets up to his chest. He shrugged, “Well, negotiating stuff like that beforehand isn’t exactly sexy.”

“On the contrary, I find certainty stimulating. Knowing exactly what my bedmate likes, and how much he likes it.” Cas actually looked a little shy. 

“Oh, like sexy rules? Yeah, that’s hot,” Dean agreed, patting the space beside him. 

Cas smiled. “Yes. More specifically I was referring to explicit consent. It’s important to me.”

“If only more alphas were like you.” 

Shouldn't have said that. At least wait until there's a third date to come off as an alpha-hating omega bitch, Dean reminded himself. 

“Indeed.” Cas didn't look or smell offended. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Did you really want me, Dean? Like this?”

Oh,  _ that's _ what this was about. 

“Dude,” Dean huffed. “I was a little drunk, and I was in heat, but it didn't hamper my judgement that much. I wanted yo– it. Trust me. A lot.” 

Cas smiled, handed him the glass of water, and crawled up to settle next to him. He watched as Dean drained half the glass and set it on the nightstand. 

“I have another question.”

“Okay,” Dean said warily. 

“Is it supposed to feel like this?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Cas struggled, practically wringing his hands. “I’m probably overthinking this.” 

“Probably,” Dean chuckled, wriggling to get comfortable. “But lay it on me.” 

Cas met his gaze seriously. “Well, we’re strangers.” 

“Yeah…”

“But, I’m sharing your bed. I know your body intimately.” Cas traced the curve of his jaw with a finger. “I know the fragrance of your heat. The taste of your slick. The shape of your mouth when you laugh. How your channel feels around my cock. How my name sounds on your tongue, like a desperate plea. How your face looks when you’re overwhelmed with pleasure.”

Dean exhaled sharply, not realizing he'd held his breath until Cas stopped talking. He blinked, trying to regain control of himself. 

“That was mean. Teasing an omega in heat,” he protested weakly. 

Cas smiled. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not, asshole.”

Cas’ smile widened. “Your scent is a drug.” He breathed in deeply. “You are very appealing, Dean.”

He kept saying that. And it kept making Dean feel stupidly warm and fuzzy inside. 

Dean felt his cheeks heat up. “So’re you, Cas. And, y’know, thanks, by the way. You made this heat a lot more bearable.” 

“It seems unfair to have to suffer cramps if you don’t bend to the hormonal urges,” Cas said reasonably. “And it wasn’t anything but immensely pleasurable for me, too.” 

“Yeah, biology sucks.” 

“Sometimes,” Cas agreed. “Ruts can be uncomfortable too, you know.”

“Omega dudes get blue balls too, Cas. Cry me a river.” 

The argument seemed familiar. Somehow, Dean couldn't keep his mouth shut instead of turning everything into an omega rights crusade. Most people rolled their eyes. Benny had laughed at him like it was cute. Called him a spitfire. 

Cas just raised a single, disdainful eyebrow at him. “And alpha females get cramps.”

Dean grinned. Touché. 

Yup. He definitely liked Cas. Maybe a little too much. 

Something in his scent must've changed because Cas dropped his gaze, falling silent. Dean hesitated, but gave into the impulse and snuggled up to him. The alpha opened his arms unprompted, one of them coming to rest around Dean’s shoulders. He pushed a hand through Dean’s hair, grooming him without a thought. 

Dean enjoyed it. His eyes drifted shut, and he let himself drift in the daydream. Could this be what it was like? Having someone in his life. An alpha who respected him (or seemed to, at least), but indulged his vulnerabilities all the same. Someone who fought him on equal footing without patronizing him, but let him be the little spoon without judgement or consequence. It seemed unrealistic. At least for the next few months. 

Dean sighed, refusing to let the tension settle in his shoulders. 

“Dean,” Cas murmured into his hair. 

“Hm?”

Cas was silent for a long time. Dean almost didn’t expect him to speak. But then he asked, “What about tomorrow?”

Dean’s chest hurt. It was probably the knotting. Pheromones and chemistry and whatnot. False mating. Why did Dean have to go and find an alpha? Someone he was so compatible with. A part of him almost wished the sex had been terrible. 

“We got tonight,” Dean said, forcing himself to close his eyes. “Who needs tomorrow?” 

Cas didn't respond, but he didn’t stop grooming Dean or pull away. Eventually, Dean relaxed completely. Maybe he’d wake up and make it up to Cas with breakfast. Maybe Cas didn't hear him put his foot in his mouth. Nah, that was unlikely. Breakfast it was. Dean was trying to remember if his kitchen was stocked with all the ingredients for pancakes when he fell asleep. 

When he woke up, Cas was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dusted this off from an old, old draft. like, over five years old. i still have the outline, but not much more written. so... should it be continued?? idk we'll see!!!
> 
> EDIT: i guess it's getting continued. in cleaning it up, the bug bit me so i kept going.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Dean rolled his eyes at the show of alpha temper from his little brother. More like alpha temper tantrum. Sam loomed over him, of course, brow wrinkled in consternation. More like constipation. Dean snorted to himself. He was hilarious. 

“I’m here, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist,” Dean grumbled, checking his reflection in the glass door before he pulled it open and walked in. 

He was dressed in a suit, hair combed, scent doctored so he reeked like an alpha. It was so synthetic, he was honestly shocked anyone bought it. Maybe that was just the kind of douchey thing they expected of a posturing alpha. 

“Everyone else is here,” Sam bitched. “We can't always be waiting on you.” 

“So don't.”

Sam made an impatient noise, clearly gearing up for a comeback. 

Dean just kept strolling across the lobby. He knew where his father’s room was. The congregation of security guards by the receptionist’s desk would lead him straight to it. Oh, and also his mother. She stood among the suits, a radiant vision in summery pink. Not her usual style, but she was playing a part. They all were. 

“Dean, you’re late,” she said, eyes wide with concern. “You didn't answer my texts. Were you okay last night?” 

Dean avoided her gaze. “Yeah, fine. Just fine.”

He didn't need to be thinking about that. Or the horrible thirty minutes he'd spent this morning in bed, curled up in the blankets, trying not to cry or dry heave. He wasn't mated. Cas was just a stranger. A ship passing in the night. So why did he feel so empty? So heartsick. 

He was still in heat, but the worst of it was over. Some Tylenol, one of those ugly, uncomfortable slick-soaking diaper underwear, a vat of scent blocker and Dean was gold. 

“We’ll talk later,” she promised. 

Dean glanced around, uncomfortable with the fact that they were surrounded by ears. And Sam, who stank of annoyance. 

“Sammy.” Mary cast him a meaningful look as they filed into the elevator. 

Sam relaxed instantly. He sighed and straightened up with a nod. He glanced at Dean, who glared back, but Sam was clearly backing off. This was an attempt at a silent understanding. 

Whatever. Sam was just like dad. 

They'd never have to deal with the shit Dean had to, and truth told, they didn’t care. 

The doors opened, and Dean allowed himself to be pretty much frogmarched to his father’s suite. It was fancy, but there was no time to admire the opulence of the place. There was a flurry of people, all part of the campaign entourage, and to say the place was chaos was an understatement. At the center of it all, John Winchester. Beside him on the couch, his campaign manager (and possibly only friend in the world), Bobby Singer. And on the chair in front of them, a kid Dean didn’t recognize. 

“Mary– the boys are here. Good.” John stood up to wave them over. “You doing okay, son?” he asked Dean. 

Dean tried not to roll his eyes at the show of concern. He knew his mother must've coached him beforehand. 

“So what’re we doing?” he asked instead of replying. 

John Winchester took it in stride. Smooth, like the politician he was. “This is Kevin Tran. Bobby assured me he's one of the best speech writers we have. He’s gonna work with you for any and all press appearances.”

Kevin scrambled to his feet, holding a hand out, clearly eager to please. “Mr. Winchester, sir, it’s an honor.”

“That’s my dad,” Dean said, shaking the kid’s hand. “Just call me Dean.” 

“Oh, of course. Alright.” Kevin nodded, looking nervously between all of them. 

Dean clapped Kevin’s shoulder. “Awesome. So, we good here? I’ll say whatever you want. I don't give a shit.” 

“Dean,” Mary chided. 

“What? I’m here for the meet and greet, aren't I? And you have my bio. Oh, by the way, for the childhood nostalgia stuff? Golf, not baseball.” He pointed a finger pistol at Kevin. “Make it snappy. No chick flick moments.” 

“You’re gonna have to actually try, Dean,” Sam said, only a little snide. “Kevin and his team are just here to help you. You have to be a part of the process.”

“Well, in case everyone forgot, I own a company? And I’m busy running it so I don't have time to be dad’s lapdog, Sammy. But you can, so good for you.” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Mary snapped. 

Dean sucked in a breath, already ashamed now that he could smell his mother’s anger. She pulled him aside, and he went willingly.

“Look, I know you're having a hard time with all this, sweetheart. It’s not the best situation. We’re all just trying to make it work.” She cupped his face in her hands, pulling him down to kiss his forehead. “Please try to be a little more understanding. For my sake?” 

“Mom,” Dean protested, but it lacked any real heat. “None of you have to do the stuff I–” 

He paused when his voice cracked. Jesus. Trust him to fall apart over a fucking one night stand. 

Dean closed his eyes. It didn't have to be, though. That's what killed him. If he wasn't wrapped up in this stupid farce, he’d still have a chance with Cas. He probably wouldn't have said the dumb shit he did last night that drove Cas away in the first place. 

The rejection from waking up alone had been like a sucker punch. Honestly, it’s a miracle he’s here, because he feels completely empty inside. 

“Oh, Dean,” Mary murmured, her scent going soft and sweet with empathy. “I’m so sorry. You know I am.” 

Dean sank into her arms, taking the comfort. He needed it. 

“It’s not your fault,” he mumbled. He meant it. He knew it wasn't her fault. It was just fucking unfair. 

For a long moment, Mary was silent. 

“It is.” She ran a hand through his hair. “To hell with it.” Her voice took on a fiery edge. “It’s not right. It doesn't make sense. Your father’s out there talking about liberty and equality for everyone, claiming he’ll fight for omega rights while he enforces some backward, archaic bullshit on you. I’m talking to Bobby. It’s two thousand freakin’ twelve. People can handle an omega with a male alpha boyfriend. You go get that sweet kid– what was his name? Benjamin? You go get him back. We’ll stand by you.”

Dean pulled back, stunned. They both knew it wasn't just that Benny was an alpha. He also wasn't the right type of alpha. And now, it was becoming clear to Dean, in more ways than just for appearances. Benny hadn't been right for him. He'd liked to have figured that out at his own pace, but it was fine. In the grand scheme of things, it was nothing. It saved him an ugly breakup down the road. 

“Mom…”

“I know you miss him,” she said softly. 

He opened his mouth, but thought better of it. It didn’t do any good for him to feel guilty about his transgressions last night. Still, it seeped into his scent. Here, his mom was going to bat for him because she thought he was lovesick after a lonely heat, and he’d gone out and betrayed her– betrayed them all in the worst way. And he was still lying about it. 

“Honey, no, it's alright,” she insisted, catching onto the guilt in his scent. “It’s not gonna hurt us. In fact, I've been thinking about it a while. I’ll make it work. Trust me.”

Dean bit his lip. He didn't deserve his mother. “Okay. And if it doesn't work, if they don't go for it– well. Thanks for trying. For understanding.” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” She took his hand, smiling when Dean clutched their joined hands to his chest, kissing her knuckles. 

“How’re you holding up? With dad?” 

Truth be told, Dean also missed time with his mother. As an omega, she had some idea of what he went through and that eased the relationship with them quite a bit. She’d spent a lot of this past year beside his father, and Dean knew he should want them to be together, so they can all be together, but… he didn’t. 

He knew, rationally, that his parents had other issues when they separated. He also knew that John Winchester certainly and undoubtedly made Dean’s presentation a sticking point in the wedge that cleaved the family apart. And the fucked up part is, a small part of Dean still felt like it was his fault. Of course a man like John Winchester – an alpha’s alpha – wanted his firstborn son to present as an alpha. For the longest time, Dean wanted so badly to be that son for his father. 

And now, when he finally found himself, and made his peace with his lot, here he was. Falling into that same self-defeating trap. 

“I’m good,” his mother said, and her smile was still real. “I think we’re actually kinda getting along again? I don’t know, it’s just… sometimes it's kind of like old times, you know?”

“Really?” Dean asked, surprised. 

“We were happy for a while there, Dean. You only remember the bad stuff. And you were a kid, so that's understandable, but…” she drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “It's probably all just in my head. He’s so wrapped up in all this. He isn't thinking about us. He can't. He's too busy. But, it's nice sometimes. I get to pretend and I don't even have to try too hard.”

“I can't stand him,” he shrugged. “Sorry, I just don't see it.”

“Not right now,” Mary agreed. She nudged Dean playfully. “But he is capable of being loving and patient and kind and just… wonderful. Trust me. We got along enough to have you two beautiful pups.”

Dean grimaced. “I don't need to hear about that.” 

“Such a prude,” Mary teased, linking her arm in his. “Okay, let’s go back and try this again. We’ve already kept them waiting long enough.” 

* * *

Dean got a few hours of quiet and focus over the next day, which was surprising. Charlie was either hungover or tied up in meetings. He could just pull up the calendar and check, but for once he was in the office actually making strides with some code. He didn’t want his concentration broken. 

And then just as abruptly, he was in a funk. 

He stared at the same function for ten minutes before giving up.

He thought about Cas instead. 

Kissing him. Grooming him. Fucking him into his bed.

Knotting him. 

Cas asking him, “ _ Is it supposed to feel like this? _ ”

Dean shifted uncomfortably as slick seeped into his glorified omega diaper. 

Why hadn’t they at least exchanged numbers? Dean tried to not to examine the fact that he’d spent the morning feeling rejected. He’d cried and jerked off in the shower to the memory, the feeling of Cas. And yes, it was utterly pathetic, but he could admit it, if only to himself. 

Part of it was the heat. He had to suffer through another day or two of this. He was hormonal and horny and hungry. 

But the other part. Dean swiveled his chair to look out the window. He had a nice view of the city from here. The other part was that he had to hide away this part of himself. No matter what he tried to tell himself, there was a kernel of shame. Being an omega like him was shameful. Inconvenient. He had to force himself to fall back on better habits and step away from that spiral of self-flagellation.

It just sucked. He didn’t buy into the true mates crap. And at the same time, he felt this connection, this pull, with Cas. For the first time in his life Dean wanted to let it take him. He wanted to be drawn into it. Instead, he had to let it go.

Why did he have to, though? Male or female, omegas were still allowed to date the last time he checked. If anything, it was encouraged. Find a mate. Settle down. Dean lets his stupid hormone-addled brain entertain the fantasy. He could be mated. He could see it with someone like Cas. It puts a smile on his face.

Maybe… if he could find Cas, and explain his situation. They could keep it a secret. Might even make it sexier, more fun. It was a long shot, but Dean felt hope rising in his chest, foolishly. 

See, this is why fantasizing was a bad idea. 

Behind him, Charlie knocked on his office door but didn’t wait for a response before stepping inside. 

“So what the hell happened last night?” 

Dean sighed heavily. What the hell indeed. 

“I don’t wanna get into it.” That was a lie. He couldn’t wait to talk about it. To try and figure out how much of a mess he’d made. 

Charlie stepped closer and then stopped. “Whoa. You smell… pregnant?”

“What?!” 

“Mated?” 

Dean rubbed his chest irritably. She’d almost given him a heart attack. “This close to firing you from my life.”

“Jeez, sorry,” she muttered, flopping into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Yes,” he admitted, looking away. 

“Really? How was it? He seemed cute,” She grinned, affecting a hair flip. “I went home with someone too, thanks for asking.” 

Dean considered keeping it to himself, but he found he didn’t want to. Because he wanted to see Cas again. And if anyone could find him, it was Charlie. 

“He was an alpha.” 

“Shut up.” Charlie’s face morphed through so many expressions before settling on shock. “I– I don’t understand.” 

“I didn’t know beforehand. I didn’t realize until, well, too late.” 

“I thought you weren’t into alphas! Now that’s your whole thing?” 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Dean said defensively, blushing. “It just happened.”

Charlie shook her head. “Well, it was probably for the best with your heat. As long as he didn’t knot you.” She paused, waiting for Dean to confirm, but when he didn’t, her eyes grew large. “Dean. You didn’t let him knot you, right?” 

Dean opened his mouth, struggling to find the words. It didn’t help that Charlie was looking at him like he grew a second head. He couldn’t look at her. He dropped his head in his hands and groaned. 

“He did, but– but I asked for it.” He felt ashamed admitting it. Weak omega. 

Charlie was at his side, rubbing his back. “It’s alright. It can be like that sometimes. The heat wants what it wants. You used a condom, at least–” 

“Yes! Yes, of course we did,” Dean snapped. 

“Just checking.”

For a long moment, he just let Charlie comfort him. She was his best friend, and her beta scent was clean and neutral. It was soothing. 

“This is gonna sound stupid, but it was– even with Benny it was never like this.” His face was practically on fire, but he pushed on, getting the words out. “And I… like him, Charlie. More than just a hookup. Like, maybe I wanna see him again.” 

Date him. 

More than date him. 

“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Charlie said kindly because she’s a good friend. “Did you get his number?”

Dean shook his head. 

“Do you wanna find him? I’m up for some internet sleuthing.” 

“Dunno if I could. I just have a first name. Or like, a nickname? He introduced himself as ‘just Cas,’ which was kinda weird.”

Charlie tilted her head considering. “Well, there is one famous Cas– he doesn’t officially go by it– but we can rule him out ‘cuz that’d be hilariously terrible.”

“Why’s that?” Dean asked.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “You know, I know you’re mad about being dragged into it by your dad, but you should pay a little more attention to the election. Just out of like, civic duty. And being a human, who exists on this planet.” 

Dread filled the pit in Dean’s stomach. “What’s that gotta do with this?”

Charlie ignored him, typing something into her phone. 

“That’s the famous Cas,” she said, shoving the image search results in his face. “Castiel Novak. You know, Michael Novak’s brother.” 

Dean stared at Cas’ face, glaring back at him from the screen. 

“As in,” Charlie continued, obvious, “Michael Novak, the republican candidate your dad’s running against–”

“I know who Michael Novak is,” Dean cut in irritably.

“... Although, he does kinda have the same hair as the guy from last night. I didn’t get a very good look–”

“Charlie,” Dean said faintly. “It’s him. That is him. That’s Cas.” 

Charlie gaped at him. “What? No. It can’t be. He’s infamous for being a boring homebody.”

“I’m telling you that was him.” Dean scrolled through the pictures. 

Cas –  _ Castiel  _ looked angry in most of them. Fuck if he wasn’t still stone cold gorgeous, though. He was easily the best looking man Dean had ever seen. The pictures didn’t do him justice. 

“Dude, get out,” Charlie complained. “Your life is a movie. How come I can’t have a star-crossed meet-cute followed by the best sex of my life with my sworn enemy? I just gotta meet Dorothy on OK Cupid like a boring, normal person?”

Dean tuned most of it out, opting instead to read through Cas– no, Castiel’s bio. Thirty three. Single. Alpha, but he already knew that. Billionaire, second in line to inherit the Novak empire. A brother and a sister. Michael was the eldest and Anna was younger. 

There were some articles, but he decided against reading them until he was alone. 

“This is a disaster.”

Charlie looks abashed. “I know. I’m sorry. I thought it’d make you laugh.” She bit her lip and nudged him. “What’re you going to do?”

“Nothing. I can’t do anything.” His heart sank as he said it. Because it was true.

“You might have to tell your family.” 

“No,” Dean said harshly. “Not an option.”

Charlie bit her lip, looking at him sadly. “What if he outs you?”

“He won’t.”

“They’re super conservative, Dean. And Michael fights dirty. Maybe we should try to contact him–”

“No,” Dean insisted. “I guess it was the heat and I don’t really know him but.” Last night, the way Cas had asked for permission, and made sure, even after the fact that Dean was okay with what they’d done. “I know he won’t do that.” 

Dean had to believe that. 

Charlie twisted her lip like she was fighting back words, but she just shrugs. “Okay. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” Dean said, grateful for his friend. He needed a distraction, fast. “Tell me about your night.”   
  


* * *

Three weeks seemed to pass in seconds. 

Dean tried to throw himself into work. He was often pulled in many different directions, which led to him feeling burnt out. But now, there didn’t seem to be enough to keep his attention from straying back to a certain alpha. 

He devoured every piece of information he could get on Castiel, which wasn’t a lot. The man’s wiki was disappointingly short, almost like it was left incomplete. He wasn’t on any social media. He rarely gave interviews, and when he did, he was concise. He didn’t answer many personal questions. He was rarely photographed, and even then, only with his brother. He always managed to look completely irritated and fed up. 

It made Dean smile. 

If he hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, he’d honestly believe Castiel was some kind of stuck up prick.

Almost everything Dean found only really told him things he already knew about the man. Castiel hadn’t lied about himself. He was an alpha. He did go to Harvard. In fact, he was some kind of ridiculous genius. 

If anything, the strategy Castiel appeared to employ in general was silence. He simply opted not to mention certain things. 

Some things were interesting. 

For instance, Dean discovered that Castiel was a runner. A bona fide marathon runner. There were pictures of him from races. Dean tucked that piece of information away as some primordial part of him thrilled over it.

Some things decidedly less so. 

Like the fact that Castiel was married. 

To one Amelia Novak. 

Dean could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen a ring on Castiel’s finger. He would’ve noticed something like that even if he was horny out of his mind. 

He stared at the two wedding pictures that made it onto some gossip news site for what felt like hours. 

Castiel cut a fine goddamn figure in a tux. He looked like a movie star. He looked like such an archetypal alpha, Dean almost wondered if he’d knocked his head the night they’d met to have mistook him for a beta for even one second. 

After all, Castiel was tall (shorter than Dean by a couple inches, but still, quite tall), dark and handsome. Dean had been on the business end of those piercing blue eyes, and he knew exactly the effect their laser focus had on a person. Castiel didn’t puff his chest out or posture ridiculously. Or at all. He stood straight and solid (if a little sullen), secure in himself. 

That was all alpha, in the best freakin’ way. 

He really was an attractive package. And a very eligible bachelor. Before he got married. 

In the first of his wedding pictures, Castiel was a few steps ahead of his bride. His riotous hair had been tamed. He was not smiling, and those blue eyes were somber. He was the picture of alpha authority. It made Dean weak in the knees.

In the second one, Castiel was arm in arm with his bride, Amelia, who was of course the ideal omega. Tiny, blonde-haired and blue-eyed. Her lips were a soft pink. She was radiant in her wedding dress. She practically glowed. 

She was everything that Dean wasn’t. Everything that made him feel… wrong in his own skin. Everything that made him wonder why any alpha, let alone one like Castiel, would ever look at him. Much less want him.

Omegas were vessels. Creatures to be filled. A receptacle. For an alpha’s attention. An alpha’s love. And ultimately, an alpha’s seed. Amelia looked the part to a tee. 

Dean had never felt the desire to exist for someone else’s pleasure before. Certainly not an alpha's. And he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Issues with his father aside, that had been his greatest struggle with accepting himself. He liked to be in charge. In control of his own life. Dean didn't think they had to be– and most omegas agreed with him– but those were still considered alpha traits. 

Alphas that wanted Dean were the ones that wanted a fight. They sought out a challenge. That’s what alphas saw when they saw him. They saw an omega that looked like them, that had their confidence, and they wanted to crush it. They wanted to break him. 

Even Benny seemed to find a thrill in pushing Dean, in being fought.  _ Big omega _ , he used to say, trying to wind Dean up for a playful tussle. 

Cas– Castiel was not that kind of alpha. 

No, Castiel was the kind of alpha that followed the script. He married Amelia after all. 

In the second picture, Castiel was smiling at his bride. His wife. They looked like something out of a fairytale. 

Dean clicked away from the webpage. 

Obviously that one night had been a mistake. 

But, it was hard to write off Castiel’s attention. Especially when Dean could call up live and in color, a memory of his kisses. His hands. The sound of his voice when he said Dean’s name. The way it felt to have Castiel inside him. To be joined with him. Tied to him. 

Castiel fucked him like he wanted it. Like he'd meant it. No fight. No demands. 

Dean kept going back to Castiel’s question. The one they’d never really ended up answering. 

_ Is it supposed to feel like this?  _

Feel like what? Like that scene from the movies, like he’d met his true mate? Like their scents mixed together in the most perfect chemistry? Like he can remember everywhere Cas touched him like he’s been branded and marked and claimed–

Is it supposed to feel like he’ll never be able to forget Cas?

The memories may be real, but anything else Dean wants to entertain would remain a daydream. 

Frankly, Castiel potentially being closeted about his preference for male omegas and/or cheating on his wife was the least of the issues standing between them. 

The real issue was Michael Novak.

The elder Novak was a conservative man, to say the least. His sole drive in life seemed to be ‘bringing forth Heaven on Earth’ - practically his slogan, for how often he invoked the phrase in his ranting speeches to his rabid following. Michael believed in the absolute authority of alphas, so Dean already disliked him. But if only that was his worst quality. 

The list went on and on.

Michael would set omega rights back a few centuries if he had his way. His ‘family values’ were a thinly veiled threat at anyone who didn’t conform to traditional primary and secondary gender roles. His world had no room for omega males. As far as Michael was concerned, Dean was an abomination. He belonged in a surrogate farm or barefoot and pregnant in some pervert’s basement. 

After that, Dean wasn’t surprised to learn that the man was a bigot and a racist who didn’t care about much besides lining his and his billionaire friends’ pockets. If in the process he ruined a country, well. That was probably just a fun bonus to Michael. 

There was no way Castiel stood by his brother and didn’t support his beliefs. And Castiel certainly gave the appearance of standing by his brother. 

Even if Castiel really was like the Cas Dean had spent the night with – Cas, who eagerly and repeatedly wanted Dean’s consent. Who was ready to stop even with his knot starting to pop, pants undone. Even if that was all true, it was still private. 

He'd still left Dean to wake up, cold and alone. 

Publicly, Castiel would probably keep siding with his brother. And his brother’s world had no room for someone like Dean. 

That was the end of the road. No point thinking about it anymore. 

“How is this Michael guy even running?” Dean asked at dinner with his family, surprising everyone. 

They were on a private plane, en route to some campaign-related nonsense for his father - honestly, Dean couldn’t be bothered with remembering the specifics. He just showed up where he was supposed to when he was told, wore what he was handed, and did as he was instructed. 

He was sitting next to his mother (who shot him a warning look) and across from Sam and his father. 

Sam scoffed loudly, and John actually looked up from the tablet he’d been perusing. 

“Why do you care?” Sam demanded.

“I saw the interview that came out yesterday. What he said about omegas was horrifying.”

“Well, that’s what’s at stake, son,” John said, setting down his tablet and actually digging into the prepackaged, horrible plane food set in front of him. “That man doesn’t care about anyone, much less the folks that really need help.”

Mary nodded along. “This is why your father needs to win.”

“I get it,” Dean said. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to win, dad.” 

John smiled wanly. “Glad I have your vote.” In a burst of affection Dean hadn’t thought his father possessed, he added, “I can’t do this without you guys, you know that right? I mean it.”

“We know,” Mary said warmly. “We’re here for you.”

Dean could tell his mom meant it. She was actually happy. It had been a long time since he’d smelled genuine happiness on her. 

It was a rare moment of peace and agreement for the family. Dean couldn’t remember the last time they’d eaten together, let alone actually had a civil conversation. If they’d gathered in the past year, they had also been surrounded by a host of aides and strangers. And his father’s attention was usually divided, pulled in a million directions at once.

Before that, well. It had been a decade at least. 

“I just think,” Dean hesitated, but his mother smiled encouragingly. “It was a lot for me to give up. That’s all.” 

“We’ve all made sacrifices, Dean,” John said stiffly. 

The message was clear: moment over. Dean fucked it up, as usual.

“Still,” Sam cut in, surprising Dean. He actually looks remorseful. “That sucked. It’s shitty that we don’t practice what we preach. I know Benny was special. I’m sorry.”

It was sweet of Sam to get protective. It warmed Dean to his little brother immediately. They may have been separated for a few years, and Sam may have turned into an overgrown teenage alpha knothead, but he was still Dean’s kid brother. And Dean still loved him. 

If anything, it was Dean’s job to protect him. And Dean hadn’t been doing that. He’d let the time they spent forced apart by their parents get between them. 

“It’s not your fault, Sammy.”

“I know, but I could’ve been more supportive.” 

Mary wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulder and reached out to squeeze Sam’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for this since you boys were kids. This family only works when the two of you have each other’s backs.” 

“We do,” Dean promised, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. 

Sam smiled at him, and Dean saw the dorky, hopeful little alpha brother he’d left behind when he and mom moved out so many years ago. 

For the first time in a long while Dean stopped worrying. Over the stale smell of blockers and the plane, he could smell his family. The way it used to be, when he was ten. Before his parents started fighting. When it was just them, all together. 

Except now, it wasn’t just a memory. It was a good feeling. 

He picked up a french fry and threw it at Sam. “Sammy’s just a little bitch sometimes.”

“Jerk.” Sam hurled it right back at him, and Dean ducked. 

“So, what are we doing in New York anyway?” Dean asked. 

Mary groaned, and John rolled his eyes, but Sam actually answered him. “We’re headed to Hofstra University. For the first presidential debate?” 

“Oh. Already? Like, we’re all going?” 

“Do you even read the itineraries given to you?” Mary asked in fond exasperation. “Yes.” 

  
“So… Michael’s family will be there, too?” Dean asked, hoping he didn’t come off too suspicious. “The whole Novak clan? Or just his wife and kids?”

“I’m not sure,” John said with a heavy sigh, picking up his tablet again.“From what I’ve heard, his brother is usually with him. He prefers his wife to stay at home with the pups. They’re much younger. And that’s his whole deal, anyway. Traditional family values. We’ll probably have to greet them backstage at some point.” He glanced at Dean over his glasses, voice threaded with alpha authority. “I know you have a newfound interest in politics, but I don’t need to tell you to be civil. Do I?”

Dean lowered his gaze, hating that not submitting made his inner omega cower. “No, sir.” 

The peaceful, happy family scent quickly disintegrated. 

“Good. And keep an eye on your brother. We don’t need a repeat of Detroit.” 

Sam dropped his gaze too, embarrassed. 

“Yes, sir.” 

* * *

The drive up from New York was tense. 

John was the center of a maelstrom, going over talking points with aides. Mary stayed by his side. 

Dean was left to fend for himself and Sam. He hadn’t been alone with the kid in at least five years. Sam fiddled with the radio while Dean tried not to grumble about the rental. 

“Stop!” he snapped when Sam switched stations mid-song for the fifth time. “Just… quit it. Sit back and try to enjoy the view or something.”

Sam huffed, but quit fiddling. For about five seconds. He started jiggling his leg. 

“Jesus,” Dean muttered under his breath. “So tell me about– how’s law school?”

“Oh, save it,” Sam snarked. “You don’t give a shit about that.”

“The hell I don’t?” Dean glared at him before focusing on the road again. “What’s with the attitude?”

“You’ve never asked before.”

“It’s not like we get to spend a lot of time together, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Sam chewed his lip, going full moody teenager. 

Dean tried changing subjects. "Is there a girl? Spill.”

“... Yeah. Kind of.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Um.” Sam gripped his knees like he was bracing himself. “Well, she… she’s older than me.”

“Like a senior?” Dean panicked as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, is it a teacher?” 

“What– no!” Sam smells offended. “She doesn’t have anything to do with Stanford.”

That was an odd way to put it.

“Alright. What’s her name?” Dean asked, trying the easier route again to keep Sam from clamming up. “Is she cute?”

Sam stayed silent for long enough that Dean thought he was going to be ignored after all. 

“Rowena. Her name’s Rowena.” 

A fond smile softened his face. For all his reservations in discussing it, Sam seemed to really like her. That didn’t bode well, since the kid was usually pretty forthcoming about this stuff. Dean knew every crush, all the telltale signs Sam had… well. Maybe not in the last few years. But before that.

“She’s kinda scary and a little mean and Scottish and– you know, just forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Sam said hastily, probably picking up on Dean’s worry through his scent.

Dean scoffed, exasperated. “I’m not gonna rat you out, Sammy.” 

“Don’t call me that. And I know. I just… I’d rather not talk about it.” He actually sounded a little apologetic. “What about you? You still talk to Benny?”

“No.” Dean said flatly. “That chapter’s closed.”

“Has there been anyone else?” Sam asked hesitantly.   


Dean of course immediately thinks of Cas.  _ Castiel _ , he corrects. But that was a one time thing. 

“Nope. Kinda hard to get out there and meet people when I’ve gotta hide a pretty big part of myself.” 

“Dean, you can talk to me too, you know. I’m not gonna rat you out, either.” 

“That’s great, but there’s nothing to talk about.”

Sam threw his hands up and sighed. “Fine. Be like that.”

Maybe Sam knew something. Maybe Dean had been seen. Panic made him go cold. 

“Why do you keep asking me?” he asked, trying to stay calm so his scent didn’t give him away. 

“You smell different. Not mated, but… halfway there, at least.” Sam took a big, obvious sniff. “Kinda woodsy or smoky or something. It’s very subtle, so don’t freak out. I don’t think anyone else noticed.” 

Shit. He had to get over Cas, fast. 

“It’s a new body wash,” Dean lied. “Trying to play up the whole alpha thing.”

“Sure,” Sam said, clearly unconvinced, but he dropped it. 

They spent the last half hour of the drive in silence. When they parked, Dean stopped to cover up again. Apprehensive about a run in with the Novaks, he doused himself in blockers and Sam’s stanky alpha cologne for good measure.

They were ushered backstage together. The chaos was overwhelming. 

John was getting prepped to go on camera while two aides spoke to him simultaneously. People with headsets and make-up kits and all manner of other shit milled about. Dean was starting to get a headache already.

“Let’s go get seated,” Mary said, popping up at Dean’s left shoulder, giving him a good scare. “Sorry, honey,” she added, grinning. 

Dean rolled his eyes, but linked arms with her. “Should we wish him luck?”

She glanced at his father, but shook her head. “He knows. He needs to stay focused.”

“Alright.”

They turned in unison, and for the second time, Dean nearly walked right into Castiel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls nobody hold me to any facts about elections. this is obviously not a story about that, and dean is never going to be a reliable narrator about any of that stuff.


	3. Chapter 3

“Excuse me,” Castiel said politely.

Dean stared, heart hammering in his throat. Castiel stepped past him, maintaining an appropriate distance. Dean had to physically will himself to not turn and watch him walk away. He gave no indication of having recognized Dean. And that… stung. A lot. 

“Forgive my brother’s rudeness. Castiel, say hello to the Winchesters.”

Dean had been so focused on Castiel, he hadn’t noticed that Michael Novak was in the room, too. He’d stepped out of his chair and was steering Castiel back to face them.

Castiel stood before Dean, dressed in a dark blue suit that was almost identical to his brother’s. Someone had managed to tame his hair. He looked handsome, of course, but nothing like the night they’d met. Even the way he carried himself was different. It was almost like that had been a different man. 

“My apologies,” Castiel said stiffly. “I’m Castiel Novak, Michael’s younger brother.”

Mary nudged Dean, and he jerked, realizing that Castiel had stuck his hand out. Dean took it and his brain short-circuited in Castiel’s firm grip. He had to keep looking at Castiel. Anything else would read as submission. 

Looking in those unyielding blue eyes, he found not a single shred of recognition. 

“Dean Winchester,” he managed. 

“Hello, Dean.” As he said Dean’s name, Castiel’s squinty frown narrowed a hair more. He pressed his lips together, and Dean followed the movement helplessly before forcing himself to look away. 

It was the only outward sign Castiel had given, and it was barely one. For some reason it poured relief down Dean’s spine. It made him feel foolish and weak. It was probably written all over his face. Dean swallowed, trying for a wooden expression. 

Beside him, Sam’s frown faded quickly, and he stepped up to introduce himself.

Michael clapped Dean’s shoulder, knocking him back to reality. He stepped into Dean’s personal space and Dean had the distinct impression that he was being appraised. Michael reeked of alpha, acrid and overpowering. The fact that he wasn’t wearing blockers was bad enough, but the man was actively throwing his scent out. It was disgusting. He was every bit the kind of alpha Dean hated. 

He couldn’t reconcile it with what he knew about Castiel. Couldn’t believe that the two men were related. Their scents were completely different. Their behavior, poles apart. 

One thing was for certain. Michael didn’t know Dean was an omega. Which meant Castiel hadn’t outed him.

Yet.

“John Winchester’s eldest.” Michael’s tone was jovial, but quite fake. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. I’ve met Sam before. Prodigal son, that one, am I right? You, however, tend to keep a pretty low profile.”

“Well, I run a company, so,” Dean said, half-heartedly, trying subtly to put some distance between them.

Castiel had moved onto introducing himself to Mary and Sam. Not the way he’d expected meeting the family to go, Dean thought deliriously. 

“Oh, I’m sure it keeps you quite busy,” Michael said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Castiel is the same. He stays holed up in the office all the time. I tell him, all work and no play makes for a dull alpha. You strike me as an alpha with sense. Castiel, you could learn a thing or two from him.”

“Certainly, brother,” Castiel said, back at his brother’s side. “For now, we should let the Winchesters be on their way.”

“Right you are, brother.” Michael said coolly, but his scent conveyed his displeasure at being interrupted. Castiel lowered his gaze in deference, and Michael flashed another cold, unpleasant smile. “Well, I’d better get going. Wish me luck.”

With that, Michael was leaving, swarmed by aides and bodyguards. 

Dean stayed frozen, only vaguely sort of hearing his mother respond. What the hell was Cas doing, kowtowing to that smarmy jerk? It made Dean’s blood boil. 

“It was very nice to meet you, Dean,” Castiel said, holding his gaze for a split second longer. “And Mary. Sam. Have a good evening.”

“You too, Castiel,” Sam said. “We really should get going, guys.” 

Dean stepped closer to his mother, trying to take comfort in holding her hand as they were ushered to their seats. He felt like his knees were going to give out. He felt like running back to Cas. A ridiculous impulse. 

“That guy gives me the heebs and the jeebs,” he murmured as they sat down, not bothering to hide his shudder.

“Castiel?” Mary asked, sounding surprised.

Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “Nope. The other one.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve met him before, so it doesn’t bother me anymore. He kinda reminds of your dad.” “Really?” Sam screwed his face up in disgust. “I don’t see it.”

“When your dad was younger, he kind of had the same look. I’m telling you, they could’ve passed for brothers.”

Dean snorted. “Well, that tracks.”

“They wouldn’t have had anything in common besides that. The guy’s a prick,” Sam said, with feeling. “Stunk up the whole room. Who does that? Really made me wanna throw down.” 

“That’s precisely his strategy, Sammy,” Mary said. She continued, but Dean tuned her out. 

He hummed his agreement and turned in his seat, trying to look behind them. The auditorium was huge, and practically bursting with people. His heart sank. There was no way he’d be able to see Castiel in this crowd. 

“Looking for someone?” Mary asked.

Dean settled back down, grateful that the blockers would hide his disappointment. “No.”  
  


* * *

The debate went on for what seemed like forever. Dean couldn’t focus on one second of it. He felt hot and feverish, and he couldn’t stop thinking back to the brief meeting with Cas. 

No, goddamn it.  _ Castiel _ . 

Now that he’d seen Castiel a second time…

Dean felt restless. His stomach was twisting in knots. He felt like he was going to tear out of his skin if he didn’t see the alpha again. His omega was rallying for a claim. It felt like the dreaded M word was being tattooed out by the beat of his heart.

Dean didn’t dare think it, even in the privacy of his own mind. It could never happen. 

He just needed to speak to Castiel, but it would only be to make sure he wouldn’t be outed. Castiel gave every appearance of being a reasonable, fair person.

And even if it did turn out that he was an asshole like his brother, Dean had to make sure Castiel understood the stakes. Dean knew he was married – the thought made him physically ill – so if Castiel decided to blab, it would be mutually assured destruction. Cheating on a spouse didn’t fit into Michael’s narrative. 

Michael, who was currently on stage, gearing up for a homophobic rant about the sanctity of marriage. 

Yep. At least Dean could make sure his screw up didn’t ruin everything for his family. For once. 

“Are you okay?” Mary whispered in Dean’s ear. 

“I’m fine,” Dean muttered, wiping his sweaty palms on his knees. “Just need some air.”

She took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Shouldn’t be too long now, honey.”

She wasn’t wrong. It was only about another fifteen minutes, but it still felt like forever to Dean. They were ushered backstage again, and into the large room where the candidates were previously preparing. Only now, everyone was packing up. Across the room, Dean finally spotted Castiel again. 

But he couldn’t just walk up to the guy. At least a million people would see them talking. 

“Arthur,” Dean said, snagging one of his father’s aides. “I need a favor–”

“Mr. Winchester?” The woman who addressed him looked like she could be Castiel’s sister. She had similar dark hair and the same sharp blue eyes. She was dressed in a grey pantsuit like most of the aides, but she managed to stand out just enough to clearly be from Michael’s camp. 

“Who’s asking?” Arthur stepped in front of Dean. 

“Your car is ready,” she said evenly, ignoring Arthur. “Follow me.” She walked away without waiting for a response. 

“Oh yeah. Great, that was it. Good man, Ketch,” Dean lied lamely, hurrying after her. “Tell Sam to text me.”

She led him to a deserted stairwell before addressing him again. “Are you staying at the Ritz Carlton?”

He was, but he wasn’t gonna give that information up so easily. He may be bigger than her, but he was still an omega. Some things were just asking for trouble. Like telling strangers what hotel you were staying at. 

“Did Castiel send you?” Dean asked, crossing his arms. 

She made an impatient noise and handed him a key card. “Twenty sixth floor. Two AM. Use the south elevators.  _ Don’t _ be late.” 

Dean stared at it for a few seconds. “I’m not doing this.”

She shrugged and pointed at the door. “Parking lot is that way. Goodnight.”

* * *

This was a bad idea. 

Dean knew it was a bad idea. He’d gone over how much of a bad idea it was on the hour long drive back to New York. And then again in the twenty minutes it took to check in. And then one more time as he waited twelve minutes for the clock to tick to over to two. 

He thumbed the keycard as he stepped out of the elevator. No turning back now. His room was on the twenty-first floor. If he was seen, he’d say he made a mistake. He was tired, running on three hours of sleep in the past forty eight hours. It wasn’t that crazy. 

Room 2604. Dean re-read the number multiple times. Thumbed at it, like the ink would bleed away and he could just forget. 

Ignoring his heart hammering away in his chest, and hurried down the hallway. The keycard beeped as he slid it in the slot, and then the lock clicked open. 

He stepped in and there was Cas. 

Here, in this room, he was Cas. The difference was immense and palpable. 

Cas was sitting at a table near the center of the room, nursing a drink. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up. Tie slung over the back of another chair. The room smelled like him. Like his sadness. Woodsmoke and cedar embers. His fragrance set fire to Dean’s blood. 

Cas actually looked surprised to see him. “Hester said you weren’t coming.”

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. “Changed my mind.” 

“I’m sorry. About earlier. And this.” Cas ran a hand through his hair. He stood up and crossed the room. “I just wanted you to know that you have nothing to worry about. I’m not going to tell anyone.” 

“But?”

Dean couldn’t stop looking at Cas. Every cell in his body wanted to go to him, but Dean forced himself to stay rooted to the spot. 

“Nothing. No conditions.” Cas' scent bittered some more. “I’m not a– I wouldn’t.”

“Does she know?”

“Hester? No. Not about you.” Cas insisted with a frown. “I knew I could trust her to get a message to you. She doesn’t know about you. I promise.”

“Michael?”

It was interesting, the way Cas’ body language changed with his scent this time. He went from agitated and nervous to tightly coiled in anger. 

“Never,” he swore, voice dropping so low it’s practically a growl. 

Dean waited for him to continue, but Castiel just looked at him. One of his hands, limp at his side, opened and closed into a fist. 

“Fine.” Dean took one step back and forced himself to turn away. If he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t leave at all. “Is that it?” 

“Wait.” Cas grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “Please.”

One of his fingers wrapped perfectly against Dean’s pulse point. Skin to skin. The touch felt charged. 

Dean meant to say, “I know you’re married.”

What he said was: “I know you want me.”

Cas stared at him for a beat, eyes darkening. And then they were kissing. 

Dean wasn’t sure who reached for the other, but it didn’t matter. Kissing Cas was necessary. Important, even. It’s like his brain had been fritzing with static, drifting by somehow and this is what brought him back online. He gave into the heady demand of Cas’ mouth on his, Cas’ hands sliding down his chest, fisting in his shirt. 

They broke apart, panting, and Dean felt lightheaded with relief. 

“Why…” he started to say, but he shut up quickly. He sounded so plaintive and desperate. Why did Cas leave? 

Why didn’t he say something? Leave a note? 

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered. “I really am. I nearly couldn’t but I didn’t think– once you realized who I was. I thought you wouldn’t want me. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“You didn’t know who I was.”

“No,” Cas agreed. “I got up for some water and saw the magazines on your kitchen island. I panicked.”

Instead of responding, Dean did the stupidest thing. He pulled Cas closer, baring his throat in acceptance. Cas melted against him. He buried his nose in Dean’s neck, scenting him hungrily.

There’s just one more thing. 

“At the bar,” Dean said, not sure what he was asking, or even how to phrase it. “You weren’t–”

“I wasn’t planning on it, no,” Cas confirmed, somehow understanding anyway. “Anna, my sister, she’s an omega. It was her birthday. I was there for her. Rather, I was supposed to be.” 

Dean blinked. Of course Cas hadn’t been prowling, looking for an omega. And even if that were the case, he wouldn’t have been looking for someone like Dean. And even if he was looking for an omega like Dean, he’d been in the wrong place. 

“So, my heat…”

“Was a surprise, yes.” Cas stared at him, frowning. “I didn’t want to– well, that’s not true. I did. I wanted you, very much. I didn’t smell your heat until we kissed. There were too many people around.” 

That shouldn’t make Dean feel this odd mix of disappointment and relief. 

“Alright.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, man.” 

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Cas took his hands, and drew them up to kiss his knuckles. “I know how it sounds. It’s crazy. Forgive me, please.” 

It was crazy, but just like that, Dean knew that he already had.

Cas was here now. And Dean knew, without needing to be told, that leaving him had been painful for Cas too. He could smell it. Scents didn’t lie. 

“Okay.” Dean smiled at the disbelief on Cas’ face before pulling him in for another kiss. Cas followed eagerly, pushing Dean up against the closest wall. 

“You make me crazy,” Cas whispered, nipping at Dean’s jaw. “This– we should talk about this. There are things you should know.” 

It was true, they did need to talk. But Cas made him feel fully seen without judgement, and Dean didn’t get that a lot. Or ever, really. And once he realized that. Well, Cas made him crazy too. 

Besides, he knew whatever Cas had to say would put an end to this. He already knew this needed to end.

“Don’t wanna know.” 

Cas stared at him, expression going back to unreadable. “You don't?”

“Nope. Not right now. Later.” 

Dean let his walls drop. His scent flooded with his desire. So much of it that he could smell himself. It was selfish of him, he knew, but he wanted this. At least one more time. One last time. He could see Cas physically react to it, eyes darkening, nostrils flaring. Could feel it, too. Hard against his hip. 

Cas exhaled sharply. “Do you want me, Dean?” 

Dean thought it was a pretty ridiculous question. He could smell himself, slick and ready for his alpha. Of course he wanted Cas. 

“I need to hear you say it,” Cas gritted out. 

It kinda sounded like his alpha was begging. The thought made Dean smile, but it also made the omega in him glow in satisfaction. 

Cas missed him. Cas wanted him. 

“Yeah,” Dean managed, voice rough. “Want you, Cas.” 

A moment later, he yelped – not screamed, Dean never screamed – inelegantly as Cas hoisted him up suddenly. 

“What?” Cas raised an eyebrow as Dean huffed out a laugh. He looked like he wanted to smile, but didn’t. 

“Put me down, you weirdo. There’s a bed right there.” He glanced around, but there in fact, wasn’t one. “Well, somewhere around here.” 

Cas shrugged but let him down. “I could’ve carried you.” 

Yup, definitely showing off. Smug little alpha. Thought he was a hotshot. 

“Or you could catch me.”

Dean shoved Cas to give himself a head start, but it wasn’t much of one. The room was furnished with a small table and two chairs. Behind that, a couch. Cas was staying in some hoity toity suite with multiple rooms, clearly. Billionaires. They were all the same.

Dean swerved around the table, heading to the left where the room opened up. Apparently not by very much, as it was a dead end with a mirror. But it split off in each direction. One was the bathroom, so maybe not that one. 

But his momentary hesitation to pick a side was his undoing. He had barely cleared the entrance to the bedroom when his alpha was on him, catching him by the waist. 

He laughed as he was slammed into the bed, legs spread, an eager alpha already between them. It quickly turned into a satisfied moan as Cas kissed him. Cas smelled heavenly like this. A wild, burning forest. Untethered. Terrifying. Dean wanted to lose himself in it. 

“Are you in the habit of baiting alphas?” Cas asked, exasperated and clearly struggling to hold himself back. 

He’d already pinned Dean’s arms above his head. Single handedly. Such a show off. 

Usually, a question like that would put Dean in a funk because the answer was no. He spent most of his time actively doing the opposite. He spent most of his life fearing an alpha rage that he couldn’t fight off, that he’d be accused of setting off in the first place. But here, under Cas, under an alpha that smelled so good, an alpha who won over his instinct, inexplicably Dean felt safe enough to play. 

“Only the really hot ones,” he winked.

Cas narrowed his eyes, going still with ice cold control. “No,” he decided. “Only me.” 

Dean swallowed, suddenly no longer in a teasing mood. His heart pounded, breath coming short. Still pinning him, Cas gripped his chin with his free hand, thumb running across his lower lip. He followed the touch with his gaze intently. Fuck, he was beautiful. Being the object of his attention was exhilarating. 

“No one else,” Cas said.

Dean shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Say it.” Cas’ head tilted slightly, blue eyes seeming to glow. Coming from him, the words were a request. Dean wanted it to be an order. 

“N-no one else, Cas.”

Satisfied, Cas smiled. God, he was beautiful like this, so pleased. Awed. His gaze was worshipful as he held Dean in place for the kiss, taking it along with Dean’s breath. 

“Good. Now, take this off,” Cas growled, tugging at Dean’s jacket. 

Dean hastened to obey, shrugging out of it and flinging it to the floor. It was sort of funny, Dean spent his whole life dodging alphas that tried to bully and order him around. They never understood. They thought being handed the reins was a free pass to abuse, tripping on power. Cas behaved like it was a privilege and a responsibility. It was confusingly endearing and hot.

Cas whipped his belt free, bringing that train of thought to a stall. Caging Dean under his arms and thighs, he looked intent on ravaging Dean to within an inch of his life. It sent a violent shiver of want through Dean, slick seeping through his underwear. 

Fuck, he was gonna ruin these pants. 

Cas’ nostrils flared. A bloodhound catching his scent. 

_ Fuck _ . 

“That’s the idea, Dean,” Cas said, sounding calm and completely at odds with the frenzied way he was fighting with the zipper. A second later, he pulled Dean’s pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. 

Dean gasped as Cas palmed his erection, hips snapping up, arching into the touch. 

Cas just pressed closer, and every thought left Dean’s brain as he felt the hot slide of Cas’ dick against his thigh. He couldn’t care less about the state of his pants anymore. He didn’t even register that Cas had ripped his shirt open. He was focused on the hardness, and all he knew was that he needed it inside him. And this wasn’t moving fast enough for him. Cas was still dressed. 

So Dean did the one thing he knew would get an appropriate response. 

He kicked the shoes and pants off from where they’d bunched around his ankles and flipped onto all fours. And arched his back. Presenting for his alpha. 

The growl that ripped out of Cas’ throat was more animal than human. 

The scent of his arousal flooded the room, enough to make Dean light-headed. 

Dean bit back a whimper as he felt slick run down his inner thigh. He realized how he must look – a mess. A needy omega. And for once, he didn’t feel a shred of shame about it. 

He was safe here. Cas wasn’t going to judge him.

“Wha–?” Dean dropped his head as he realized Cas’ mouth was at the curve of his knee, licking up, chasing the rivulet of slick back up his thigh to the source. His hips bucked as Cas nipped at one of his cheeks, then hands spread his cheeks apart, and then Cas was lapping at his hole. 

“Cas,” he gasped, shaking as Cas’ tongue pushed into him. 

He’d never known an alpha to want to spend so much time and effort pleasuring an omega. Even Benny would only really spend as long as he needed to stretch Dean open. And even then only with his fingers. 

He’d been eaten out before, but Cas brought to the act an alpha’s drive to consume. To devour him completely. It took everything not to come from that alone. 

Cas briefly let up, and Dean braced himself, more than ready for a cock to breach him. Instead Cas swallowed Dean’s cock halfway, tongue swirling around the sensitive head. His thumb pressed against Dean’s hole, and Dean pushed up with a whine. All sensation seemed to zero in on two spots - Cas’ mouth on his dick, and Cas’ finger, teasing his hole. 

“Cas, come on–” he panted, and Cas relented, pressing a finger in as he sucked. Dean felt his hole flutter and spasm, pulsing with need. “More.” 

Cas released his cock with an obscene sound, tonguing his way back across Dean’s perineum to his hole. He paused to nip sharply at one of Dean’s cheeks. “Use your words, Dean.” 

“Cas,  _ alpha _ , please,” he begged, completely frustrated and floored by the pleasurable assault that managed to be so much and not enough all at once. 

Cas growled again, tugging Dean’s hips back, spreading his cheeks apart. 

Dean looked back between his legs, hoping to reach for Cas, but he stopped at the sight. His cock hung heavy between his legs, achingly hard, a string of slick, or Cas’ spit hanging from the head. He could see Cas’ fingers squeezing his thighs, spreading him open. And past that, Cas’ cock, bigger, thicker and just as hard. 

Cas pushed a finger in, using it to open him, to lick into him again, breath hot against his hole, and Dean spilled just like that, untouched, onto the bed. 

Cas’ arm wound around his middle was the only thing that kept him from collapsing. He should be embarrassed at how fast that happened but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel it. 

“So beautiful, Dean. Sweet omega,” Cas praised. “So good of you to come for me.”

The words landed on Dean like a caress, and heightened his bliss. He’d never cared for this kind of talk before. Usually it made him cringe. He didn’t want to draw attention to being an omega, let alone have it be the star of the show. 

With Cas, though… everything was different. 

Cas kissed up from the base of Dean’s spine to between Dean’s shoulder blades, slowly lowering him to the bed. 

Dean was woozy and still shaky but he wasn’t gonna just lie down. He pushed back up on his elbows, and rested his head on the bed, presenting again. 

Cas inhaled sharply. “Dean?” 

“Knot me, alpha,” Dean murmured, voice raw. He looked over his shoulder at Cas– wasn’t that a sight. Dark-haired alpha, eyes blown with lust, lips and nose and chin shining with slick.

Somehow, Dean managed a slack-mouthed grin. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. 

“Let me get a condom on,” Cas said shakily.

Well, it was a good thing one of them kept their wits about. Though his thighs were still trembling with aftershocks, Dean waited, presenting, knowing exactly what that would do to Cas. 

“I might– I won’t be able to hold back.” Cas sounded wrecked. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t want you to– hah–! Fuck...”

Cas pushed into him, sheathing himself in one, rough stroke. Filling Dean completely. Taking everything, even his words. 

Dean’s breath hitched as Cas covered his back, mouthing at the crook of his neck, still buried inside him. 

“You feel amazing,” Cas murmured, reverent, like it was a revelation. 

Dean clenched around Cas, trying to draw him in deeper, and Cas instead, pulled out. 

“Do you want me, Dean?” he growled, settling into a punishing pace when Dean managed a wordless noise. 

His hips slammed against the backs of Dean’s thighs, his knot was already starting to catch. Dean felt himself start to harden again. 

“How does it feel?” Cas asked, teeth sharp against Dean’s earlobe. Close, but not close enough. It was exquisitely tantalizing. 

Dean bit the bedcovers beneath him, trying to keep from getting embarrassingly loud. 

Cas gripped him by his hair, tugging him back, baring his neck. The skin burned with want for a bite. Dean cried out despite himself, blinking away tears. 

“Tell me.” 

“Good,” he choked out, as Cas unerringly hit his prostate, deeper with each thrust. Slick squelched out of him, so much of it, running down his thighs. “S–so good, fuck, Cas, I can’t, I’m gonna–”

Cas sealed his mouth against his throat, not biting, but holding. It was enough. 

Dean let the pleasure take him like a fire. 

Slowly, Dean felt himself come back together in pieces. He felt hot and sticky, but the sweat was cooling on his skin. Behind him, Cas mouthed lazily, sleepily at his nape. His hands were curled around Dean’s middle, holding him tight. It was sweet, but it only heightened the lack of a bite, somehow. The unbroken skin prickled. 

They were knotted again, an absolute mess. Dean couldn’t bring himself to regret it. The air smelled like sex, but it also smelled like them, together. Like happy, sated alpha. The clear, wild breath of a forest at dawn. Entwined with it, his own scent, sweet and earthy. Sap and damp soil. Fuck, it was a powerful drug. Dean felt scent-drunk. He could sniff himself stupid on this all day. 

They should talk. He should say something to Cas, but he couldn’t find a single word to fill the silence. And so, despite himself, he dozed. 

Dean sat up with a jerk. Looking around blindly in the dark, he found a clock on the nightstand. Four-seventeen. 

Shit. He’d fallen asleep here? At least he had time to sneak out before he was found out. His flight was at seven. 

“Stay,” Cas grumbled sleepily. 

His arms came up and tightened around Dean’s middle, dragging him back to the warm center of the bed. Dean let himself enjoy it for a few moments. 

Cas snuffled at his neck, pressing a slack-mouthed, tickling kiss behind his ear, and then settled down, satisfied. A few moments later, he started to snore gently. 

Affection flooded Dean’s chest. 

How could he feel this way about someone he barely knew? 

Letting himself be held for just a little longer, Dean glanced down at his middle. At Cas’ fingers loosely interlaced against his chest. No ring. Not even a shadow of one. He really should find out.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Cas mumbled, voice rough with sleep. 

Dean covered one of Cas’ hands with his and squeezed. “I should go.”

Cas’ scent took on a singed note. He was hurt. 

There was nowhere to hide. They weren’t tied together, but they were both still naked. Tangled together. Somehow, this was sweeter. Cas had pushed the soiled coverlet off the bed, cleaned up and tucked them both in. It was just them. In their little nest. 

And Dean knew his own scent was letting on that he couldn’t bear hurting Cas either. 

“I have to go. I have a flight to catch,” he elaborated. “And… we’ll get caught. If I stay.” 

Their scents calmed, mingling back together again. Cas kissed his shoulder. “I understand,” he said, even as he started rubbing a thumb along Dean’s sternum. Marking him with his scent. He did it with such an absent-minded fondness, Dean couldn’t bring himself to call him out. Much less stop him. 

Dean chewed his lip. He knew the question would destroy their peace and probably make it so this could never happen again. Well, this already couldn’t ever happen again. But this way, he’d be obliterating the chance by choice. He had to know, though. 

“Cas, are you–”

“Dean,” Cas said at the same time. “Sorry.”

Dean shook his head, but Cas just waited for him to continue. Sighing, he said, “You’re married.” 

“I was.” Cas sounded resigned. Exhausted. He was already expecting the question. “Amelia passed a few years ago in an accident. It’s not widely publicized. Her family is very private.” 

Oh. Dean felt guilty for snooping, and worse for snooping badly. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Me too,” Cas said quietly. “Our families arranged our marriage. We were already separated when it happened.”

“You loved her,” Dean realized, frowning.

Cas didn’t deny it. He didn’t stop scent-marking Dean either. “We grew up together. She was my sister’s best friend.” 

“There’s something else. My family… my situation is complicated.” Cas continued, burying his nose in Dean’s neck, as though fortifying himself with his scent. He let out a low sigh.

Dean turned to face Cas. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

Cas stared at him like he couldn’t understand or believe what he was looking at. 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Cas.” Dean reached out to run a hand through Cas’ hair, relishing in the softness, still a little sticky with sweat. “You don’t really owe me anything.”

Cas’ mouth twisted downward. He lowered his gaze. “Okay.”

“Hey, no, it’s not like that,” Dean said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean–” He ducked his head to kiss Cas, to soothe him somehow. Cas kissed him back like he was completely powerless to resist. 

“I understand,” Cas said, again, still smelling hurt. 

“ _ Stop _ , alpha,” Dean groaned, gathering Cas in his arms. He tucked his head under Cas’ chin, burrowing close. There was nothing he wanted more than for them to be pressed together, like this.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered. 

It made Dean relax, just a little. He just needed to comfort his alpha. “S’okay. We’re okay.”

He had to stop thinking that. Cas wasn’t his. 

“I am sorry, Dean. I never expected this.” Cas drew back just enough to cup his cheek, thumb stroking gently. “I’ve never felt like this before. About anyone.” 

_ Is it supposed to feel like this?  _

Dean leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “Me neither,” he admitted, hardly believing his own ears. Cas started to pull away, so he gripped his wrist, holding him in place.

He wished they hadn’t met like this. He wished he had a chance with Cas. A real one. It hurt to know that Cas existed, but he couldn’t have him. It tore at him to have to let his alpha go. 

Wait. Not his. 

_ Not _ his alpha. 

“Dean, look at me, please.” 

Sighing, Dean obeyed. It was easy to lose himself in Cas’ gaze. Especially when he was looking at him like that. 

“Your scent, it feels like home.” Cas drew a breath as though trying to soak it in completely.

Dean wanted to ask what he smelled like to Cas, but he didn’t. 

Cas answered anyway. “Like an open road between wheat fields on a warm summer day. Sunny and salty, with a touch of leather. And old books. In pleasure, it turns sweet and sticky. It makes me think of honey. When you’re angry, upset, it turns tart, almost bitter and metallic. Like blood. When you’re sad or hurt,” Cas kissed him deeply. “... Petrichor.” 

Dean breathed him in, trying to hold this moment, crystallized in his mind.

“I’m already addicted to your presence. Your touch. You’re everything I never knew–”

“Cas, please,” Dean begged in a whisper. If he didn’t stop now, it would only hurt more. 

Cas swallowed and nodded. He pressed closer for a long moment and then got up. Dean immediately felt cold all over. 

“I ruined your shirt,” Cas said with a wince. “I hope one of mine will do for now.” 

He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and Dean took in the room as Cas walked around the bed. 

There was a huge window to his right, and the city glittered outside it. Distantly, he heard a siren. Under the window was a loveseat. And a neatly folded pile of clothing. His clothing. Cas brought it over.

Dean climbed out of bed, ignoring how horrible it felt to be leaving their nest – their scents together. 

“That’s not mine,” he pointed to the clean underwear. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to walk around smelling like slick.” 

So, instead he’d be walking around smelling like Cas. And speaking of slick soaked things. 

“You trying to hold onto my underwear, Cas?” he teased, even as he pulled on Cas boxer briefs’. It fit, if a little roomier, but that didn’t surprise him. Cas was built heavier than him, but mostly he was broader in the shoulders and thicker in the thighs. He probably shouldn’t spend much longer thinking about Cas’ body - the man was a wet dream. 

A wet dream only made better by all the adorable blushing and stammering. 

Dean decided to put him out of his misery. He stepped closer and kissed Cas. “Keep it. I want you to have it. Besides, it’s only fair.” 

Cas’ scent suffused with longing. He looked like he wanted to beg Dean to stay. Dean wanted him to. 

Instead, Cas licked his lips and stepped back, going to get dressed. “I have a babysitter - a bodyguard at the end of the hallway. I’ll distract him. And you should be safe to leave the same way you came.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the wonderful response to this horny little story. i'm going to try and keep up a weekly cadence (saturday/sunday evening most likely unless there's a different update day people strongly prefer?)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for john winchester's assholery and for dean's self-flagellation after the fact. if you want to avoid, stop reading after the confrontation with charlie. 
> 
> this was hard to write, but hopefully it answers some burning questions.

“You wanna tell me where you were?” Sam asked, scaring the crap out of Dean. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, the picture of worry. 

Dean shut the door to his room behind him. “No. What’re you doing here?” 

“What happened to your shirt?” Sam countered. 

Dean looked down at it. Right. His shirt had been white. This one was blue. Cas’ shirt was blue. He ignored Sam and went to the bathroom. 

Sam followed him. “Dude, you reek.”

“Sam,” Dean sighed, bracing himself against the sink. Why couldn’t he have just five minutes to fall apart before he had to be on again? “Why are you stalking me? Did dad put you up to this?” 

“Stalking you?” Sam scoffed, raising his voice. “I covered for you! Dad wanted to see you because he heard you were being followed by someone working for Michael. I said I’d check on you instead, but you weren’t in your room. You weren’t answering your phone. You’ve been missing all night. If it wasn’t for me, Ketch was gonna come up here and figure it out. And now you waltz in here, smelling hurt and distressed and– Dean–”

“I’m fine,” Dean intoned, turning the faucet on. 

Maybe if he just washed his face and cleared his head, he’d stop thinking about it. 

Kissing Cas goodbye. 

Walking away from him. 

“You’re freaking me out, Dean,” Sam said. “Who did this to you? What happened?” 

Dean wiped his face with a towel, but he still just felt horrible. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“Was it Castiel?” Sam asked. “Does he know? Is he blackmailing you?” 

Dean whirled around to face him. “What– why would you say that? What’re you talking about? I don’t even know the guy.”

Sam leveled a look of exhausted exasperation at him. “I’m not stupid. I saw the way he looked at you.” 

Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair, and pushed past Sam. “You have no idea what you’re saying.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Sam growled, following him. “I know what I saw. Tell me the truth.” 

Dean’s hackles rose at Sam’s tone. The kid was trying to use his alpha on him, and Dean wasn’t gonna have it. He didn’t care who Sam thought he was. Dean could still take him in a fight. And right now, he was itching for one. Anything to distract from the pain. 

“Don’t talk to me like that.” 

For a second he thought he was going to have to punch Sam, but Sam backed down abruptly. His scent mellowed out. 

“Please,” Sam held his hands up placatingly, dropping the posturing and stepping back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. But you owe me an explanation, Dean. I have to know what I’m helping cover up.” 

“Fine,” Dean grit his teeth, picking up his bag from the floor. He hadn’t unpacked, so he didn’t bother checking for his things. “It was Cas. And yes, he knows. But he’s not gonna say anything. I handled it. And you keep your damn mouth shut about it too.” 

Sam frowned. “ _ Cas _ ? Handled it? What does that mean?” 

“What does it sound like? It means I handled it,” Dean said, exasperated. 

He headed for the door but Sam grabbed him by the shoulder. His nostrils flared. He was close enough now that he caught the full brunt of Dean’s changed scent. His eyes practically glowed as he flew off the handle. 

“What did he do to you? I’ll kill him.” 

“Jesus, stop that!” Dean snapped his fingers in Sam’s face. “He didn’t do anything. We–” he clenched his jaw. “It’s a long story. And it’s  _ over _ .” He choked over the word. “Okay? Nothing to worry about. He’s a good guy. He’s not like Michael. And he’s gonna keep his mouth shut.”

Sam breathed raggedly for a few seconds, like he was trying to get used to Dean’s scent. Like he was trying to understand it. He shook his head, and his eyes visibly cleared. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Dean promised, feeling desperate. “Can we just go now?” 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.” Dean squeezed his shoulder and stepped out of the room.

“Wait.” Sam pressed a stick of scent-blocker and some alpha cologne into Dean’s hand. “You need this. I’ll have them pull up the car and wait for you.” 

Gratitude and relief poured through Dean. Before he could get another word out, Sam stepped past him and headed downstairs. Shutting the door, Dean stayed inside for a minute longer. 

Fuck. He was going to have to cover up Cas’ scent. Their scents together. 

He pulled the shirt up by the collar to take big, shaky sniffs. There was no time to change so he could save Cas’ shirt. Feeling like he was going to break apart, Dean sprayed himself.

It felt like walking away all over. Dean couldn’t quite suppress a whimper. 

By the time he caught up with Sam, every sign of Cas was gone. 

* * *

The flight back to DC was excruciating. 

All Dean wanted to do was hunker down in a seat by himself and collapse for a while, but Sam kept shooting him worried glances. Thankfully he didn’t try to do anything else stupid, like come over and talk about it. 

His parents were engrossed in dissecting the responses to the debate. He knew it was crucial that his father emerged as the winner. John Winchester only had two more debates to make his impression on the public after all. 

Which meant that Dean spent an hour alone in his seat, feeling completely and pathetically heartsick. 

In fact, apparently, the only thing he was good for anymore was spending every waking moment replaying the last moment he and Cas shared together. 

Like this morning. Barely two hours ago. Cas was still kissing him against the door. The same door Dean was supposed to slip out of unnoticed so they wouldn’t get caught. Cas, his soft lips sliding sweetly against Dean’s. Cas, running his hands through Dean’s hair, trying to slide under the borrowed shirt. Cas pretending he was so discrete in his scent-marking, rubbing his thumb behind Dean’s ear, against his nape, a few inches to the left and above where–

It felt good to be wanted so obviously, so eagerly.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared his bed with someone who literally couldn’t stop touching him. Usually they were more interested in looking.

But even the way Cas looked at him was different. Cas seemed to look through him. Into him. It didn’t just make him feel seen. That gaze pinned him, laid him bare, and took its fill of him. That was a gaze so free of judgement and so full of wanting that submitting to it just felt natural. Safe. 

It made Dean want to revel in being an omega. 

Somehow he managed to pass out. When Sam shook him awake, the plane had already landed and almost everyone else had filed out. 

“How are you?” Sam asked quietly as they waited to be picked up. 

They were going to separate from here – Sam would head back to California, to school. And Dean would go home, to his loft, to work. To the life he’d built himself here.

“M’fine.”

“You can talk to me, Dean.” He sounded so plaintive. 

“I know,” Dean lied, mostly to get him to shut up. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“Really?” Sam asked, looking like he was ready to beg. “I know you think I’m on dad’s side – or– or that I don’t get it. And maybe you’re right. I don’t really get it. But I want to. I’m trying. I wanna understand. I’d like to be there for you. We’re brothers.”

Dean stared at him, taken aback and touched. He’d spent so long thinking that Sam was just like their dad - just like John, that he’d failed to realize Sam was his own person. And he’d managed to come out a really good person.

Sam had covered for him without needing to be asked. And now, the kid was just trying to be supportive.  _ He  _ should’ve been there for Sam, Dean realized, feeling ashamed. 

“Come here, bitch.” Dean pulled him in for a hug, squeezing tight. Sam smelled like alpha, like their dad, but he also smelled a little like mom. 

“Jerk.” Sam squeezed him back. “You sure you’re okay?”

Dean let go and stepped back, nodding. “I will be. Don’t worry about me, okay?” 

Sam shot him a wry smile. “Too late.”

* * *

Dean went through the motions. 

He woke up and immediately felt the sharp stab of loss. Cas wasn’t here. Wasn’t with him. The rest of the day always went downhill after that.

He could barely focus on work, but it was the only thing that kept him from falling apart. Left to his own devices, he would’ve stayed in bed wallowing until someone found his body. 

He made it a week without having to talk about it. 

They were in Detroit, following a successful meeting with GM, and Dean couldn’t find it in himself to feel any joy about it. 

“Okay, can we talk about this?” Charlie demanded, finally addressing the elephant in the room. “We’re designing apps for Chevy, this has literally been your dream for as long as I’ve known you. So why are we moping in this dump instead of celebrating?”

The bartender stiffened as he showed up with their order right then. 

“First of all,” Dean said, “Duly’s isn’t a dump, it’s a dive. And second, this  _ is _ celebrating. What, you want me to come to Detroit and not get coneys?”

Their bartender visibly relaxed, set their plates down and went back to ignoring them. Charlie flashed him an embarrassed grin. 

Dean looked at his hot dogs, covered in chili and onions, and stupidly wondered if Cas liked hot dogs. Would Cas enjoy coneys? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he beat himself up for it. He wasn’t supposed to think about Cas anymore.

Great. Now he didn’t have much of an appetite. But maybe some emotional eating would help him feel better. So he scarfed them down. 

“This is really not my thing, I’m sorry.” Charlie said after she gamely tried a couple bites. She pushed her plate towards Dean and sipped on her jack and coke instead.

When Dean simply finished her coney, she stared at him. 

“What?” he asked defensively. “Is it all over my face?”   


“No. I just thought you were gonna ream me for my terrible and mistaken food opinions.” 

“Guess I’m feeling charitable.” 

Charlie punched him in the arm. “Just tell me what happened!”   


“Ow.” Dean rubbed at the spot but he gave in. “I saw him again. Happy?”

“Cas?” Charlie squealed. 

“A little louder, I think there’s people a couple planets over that didn’t hear you.”

She ignored him. “Where was it? At the debate?” 

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“And?” she prompted.

Dean’s silence lasted a few seconds too long. 

“Oh, Dean.”

“Shut up.” He smarted all over from the admission. He could hear in her voice how stupid she thought it was. And she wasn’t wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she really meant it. She squeezed his shoulder. “Do you know if he feels the same way?”

“Doesn’t matter. There’s still Michael.”

“So it is mutual," she guessed correctly. "That’s good. Did you get to talk to him about other stuff?” 

He didn’t bother trying to refute her. Charlie would see right through him. “You knew about his wife, though.”

Charlie looked sheepish again. “... Yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I was trying to be a good friend. You told me not to snoop. And,” she hesitated before adding, “I could tell you didn’t want to hear it from me. I knew you’d want to find out from him.”

Dean hung his head, sighing heavily. How was he supposed to hide anything about himself if people could just look at him and read him so easily? 

“I don’t know why this is so hard. This has never happened.” Dean looked at her helplessly. “I’ve had sex before, during y’know– and– and it’s not been like this. It never became a whole thing.” 

“It happens, sometimes. Usually, people want it. Usually it’s a good thing.” 

“What is?”

Charlie smiled at him fondly, a little pityingly. “Making a connection. Getting mated. Scent-bonding. All of the above?”

Dean shook his head, but the words refused to come out. His omega decided to go completely silent, doubling down on the idea. Mated. Scent-bonded. To Cas. To his alpha. The words settled like a cool spray of water on parched earth. Sinking in his seat, into the idea, now that it was out in the open, Dean wanted it so badly. 

“Dean,” Charlie said patiently. “I don’t think you can ignore this away.”

“I have to.” He took a sip of his beer, then thought better of it and finished it. 

“Alright,” she said, sensing an argument she wasn’t going to win and backing off. “Not to throw a wrench in your grand plans, but you know you’re probably gonna run into him again in about five days.” 

“Why?” Dean frowned.

Charlie sighed. “The second debate. Unless you’re not going?” 

“That’s in five days? I thought it was like a month away.”

Charlie snorted, hopping out of her seat and ruffling his hair. “Come on, mopey. Let’s go give the team the good news. And then we’ll figure out what to do with your… situation.”

* * *

They never did figure out what to do, but Dean was fine with that. He knew that there was nothing to be done. 

The smart thing, of course, was to avoid Castiel like the plague. Keep his head down and get on with life. It would be the easy thing to do. Their lives didn’t have much of an overlap.

The not-so-smart part of him prayed for the opposite. 

He let the days run out, and then he was in St. Louis, a scant two hours before the debate, walking down yet another nondescript hotel hallway to his father’s room. 

Dean wasn’t sure why he was being asked to stop by, especially so close to the debate, but he found himself knocking on the door all the same. He’d done a better job of avoiding John Winchester these past few months than he had with Castiel. 

To his surprise, the room wasn’t swarming with people. In fact, even his mother was absent.

“Come on in,” John waved him in, staring at some papers. He took his glasses off and looked up when Dean had shut the door behind him. “So, talk to me. Anyone from Michael’s camp bother you lately?”

He knew. For a horrifying second Dean thought his father had found out about Castiel. But no, there was no way. Unless Sam tattled on him. 

Deciding to keep the faith in his little brother, Dean feigned a confused look. “No?”

“I saw that woman talk to you,” John said flatly. “What did she want?”

“I– I have no idea. I swear.” Dean swallowed, trying not to let his panic color his scent. “I thought she was a valet. She said something about my car, but when I realized she lied, I got outta there.”

John stared at him for a long moment, lips pursed. “Try again.” 

Dean opened his mouth to protest but his father held up a finger again, his anger palpable. 

“And if you lie to me this time,” he continued. “You will regret it.”

Dean shut his mouth, jaw working furiously as he lowered his gaze in deference. It was stupid how the threat instantly made him feel like a child. But, he wasn’t a child anymore. He took a steadying breath. He wasn’t going to let his father break him so easily. 

The one small consolation in all this was that Sam hadn’t betrayed him. But that paled in comparison to the realization that his father had been watching. And he had picked up on a seemingly innocuous interaction and worked out that there was more to it, even if he wasn’t quite right about the details. 

It was a good thing Castiel had decided to part ways. This was a sure sign that if they’d kept on in secret, they would have been discovered sooner or later. And there would be hell to pay. 

“Who was she?” John demanded. 

“I told you, I don’t know her,” Dean said through gritted teeth.

It happened so quickly, Dean barely registered that his father had gotten out of his seat. John slapped him, and Dean stumbled back half a step in shock. 

“Did you fuck her?” John snarled. 

“N-no, dad–”

He flinched as John grabbed him by the lapels and shook him. “Do you have any idea what’s at stake here? I can hardly believe you’re my son. Dropping your pants for the first person you see? This is what’s wrong with you. An omega woman has some understanding of her responsibility. Her dignity. But you– you’re an embarrassment. My firstborn, an omega– like this! Unattached, slutting around, bending over for anything on two legs– a disgrace!”

Dean fumbled, tripping and falling backwards to the floor as his father released him with a shove. 

“I should’ve stopped you,” John continued, so furious it filled the room, overpowering his blockers. He loomed over Dean, all alpha rage and authority. “I shouldn’t have kept my mouth shut. When Mary let you go around with those boys – betas and other omegas, like some common  _ bitch– _ ”

He stopped short suddenly, and Dean, burning with shame, hoped he was too angry to continue. Angry enough to dismiss Dean. 

“I need to know who knows.” John crossed his arms. “So I can fix this mess you’ve made.” 

“No one knows,” Dean spat. 

“Then why weren’t you in your room?” When Dean didn’t answer, John laughed bitterly. “That’s what I thought.”

Dean felt oddly calm, now that the stench of his father’s anger wasn’t making him cower. He realized in this moment that he was not the son his father wanted him to be. It hurt, but it was also a relief. He was never going to be the son his father wanted. There was a freedom in knowing that. He could stop trying. 

“I don’t need to be here,” Dean managed. “You have mom and Sam.” 

“You will not embarrass me again,” John growled. “You’re gonna go out there and smile and wave for the cameras. And you’re gonna keep it in your pants.”

Dean clenched his jaw, ignoring his flaming cheek. He could still feel the impact of the slap but it was the shame and fear that stung more than anything else. He pulled himself up to his feet. 

“Do you understand?” John asked. 

Dean shut his eyes, steeling himself to meet his father’s gaze. “Yes, sir.”

The door to the room opened, and Dean smelled his mother before she even spoke. “John, I forgot my earrings… what’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” John said evenly, turning his back to them, and heading back to his papers. “We were just having a chat.” He sat down, facing them both. “Right, son?” 

Dean straightened his back. “Right. I’ll see you guys downstairs.”

His mother clearly didn’t buy the explanation, but Dean already knew how it ended when they went down that road. His mother loved his father, despite it all. She was happy. Why make her miserable too? This way, the only person who got hurt was him. 

And there was no point in trying to get through to John. It didn’t matter anymore. The damage was done. 

The rest of the evening Dean stayed close to his mother. She sensed something was wrong, like she always did, but for once, she didn’t press the issue. It was for the best, because Dean was pretty sure he was just about holding it together. Humiliation churned hotly in his belly. He couldn’t bear to relive it so soon.

It’s funny how long Dean spent worrying about seeing Castiel again. It was suddenly the last thing on his mind. He didn’t look around to see if the alpha was backstage. He didn’t scan the crowd. He ignored the looks Sam kept shooting him. 

Every time his father spoke, Dean took it in. John Winchester was calm, rational and thoughtful. He stepped through answers simply, hiding a sharp political mind hard at work with his no-nonsense, everyman attitude. 

That was the story. The myth. From mechanic to presidential candidate. John Winchester. He was the well-respected man next door. He was just like you. So responsible, so reasonable. 

It wasn’t hard to reconcile that public affable relatability to the hatred and anger John had displayed in private. This man, the one talking about heat leave for omegas and fighting for planned parenthood– this was real. The man who had slapped Dean and pushed him around, slut-shamed him and called him a bitch– that was real too. 

As with John Winchester, who wished to lead and represent, so too his country existed in that duality. Omegas we’re deserving of rights, but only the good ones. The respectable ones. The ones who knew their place. 

Dean knew misomegany existed. He’d led a fairly sheltered and privileged life, especially because he could pass for alpha if he chose. But, of course he knew peripherally, that omegas had it tough. As the child-bearing sex. The ‘fairer’ sex. He knew that omega males were held in particularly low regard. Thought to have loose morals and a sex drive to match. 

An omega man was a perversion of the quintessential alpha. A man who got wet. A man that didn’t just receive a knot, but could enjoy it, and even crave it. Of course that was frightening to an alpha. And alphas saw their knots as something by which to take the world. To see a creature that looked like themselves but behaved like the ones they debased and oppressed every day… it’s the closest alphas ever came to empathy, Dean supposed. It probably terrified them.

After all, women of all secondary genders suffered through their reproductive cycle. Some bled while they went into heat or rut. Most at least went through some physical discomfort. 

A male omega turned into something base and wanton. An animal. No, less than that. A mindless need to be fucked. An empty, leaking receptacle. 

That’s what Dean had been when he met Castiel. Reduced to instinct. Barely a person. Scent-bonding and mating… that stuff was just flowery language to cover up the ugly truth. 

He was a hole in the shape of a person. The absence of a person. 

Dean knew now why he had to hide. Why he had to pretend to be an alpha. It wasn’t strategic or political. 

It was simple, really. John Winchester was ashamed of him. 


	5. Chapter 5

_ How’s it going?  _

_ Dude, your dad wiped the floor with Michael on that immigration Q.  _

_ Ooh! I think I saw you in the crowd for a second there. _

_ I miss you, call me when you get to your hotel!! _

Dean thumbed through the texts from Charlie, but ultimately decided to ignore them. He was in a pretty dark place, and he probably ought to reach out to her. Let her talk to him. Comfort him. 

Instead, he trudged to his room, undoing his tie before he made it through the door. He felt hot and sticky all over. Idly, he wondered if shame settled on the body like a physical thing. Shame sweat? Was that a thing? If so, he’s covered in it.

He tried not to think about it so of course that’s all he thought about, his father’s words echoing like a broken record.

_ Slutting around. _

_ Bending over. _

_ Like some common bitch _ .

Maybe if he scrubbed hard enough in the shower, it’d stop feeling like the words were etched into his skin. Maybe then he’d stop feeling like he’s done something wrong. Undressing, Dean flipped the shower on, perusing the room service menu while he waited for the water to run hot.

Club sandwiches and pasta. Great. Just perfect. Not a burger in sight. 

He called for something all the same. It wasn’t the first time he’d sought comfort in the mini bar and some mediocre food. And then he hopped in the shower, turning the water up to scalding. 

The shower helped. He felt mostly better, as long as he stayed distracted. There was a knock on his door before he fully finished toweling dry, so he pulled on the robe from the back of the bathroom door.

He had to admit the service was quick. Especially considering the late hour. He answered the door, fully expecting a hotel employee and instead– there was Castiel. 

Cas. 

Standing in front of Dean in jeans and a t-shirt. He was wearing a hoodie too, fiddling idly with one of the drawstrings.

He actually smiled, even if it was tentative. “Hello, Dean–”

“What are you doing here?” Dean stepped behind the door self-consciously. He was practically naked, and he knew what he looked like; pink from the shower, hair sticking up every which way. No blockers. Smelling like himself. Like an omega. Which apparently, to alphas, was a red fucking carpet all by itself. 

Cas actually looked a little sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck, flushing slightly. “Oh. I, well, I suppose I wanted to see you–”

“How did you know where to find me?”

Cas frowned. “Sam told me you were–”

Panic and upset flared through Dean. His father had been right. He was wrong. Castiel hadn’t been able to talk to him, so he assumed. And Sam had decided to spill. Typical alpha bullshit. 

“So, you decided, what? To find out where I was and I’d grab my ankles when you showed up? We’re not doing presidential debate booty calls. That is not what’s happening here.”

Cas stared at him in shock, jaw literally hanging open. He blinked, collecting himself. “I- I’m so sorry. I should go. This was a mistake.”

He stepped back, and the paper bag in his hand crinkled. 

“What’s that?” Dean asked, despite himself.

Cas stopped, glancing at the bag as though he’d forgotten it was with him. “Um. It’s… food. Burgers.” He hesitated and met Dean’s gaze, looking like a kicked puppy. “I thought you’d be hungry. It’s stupid, I know. I shouldn’t have presumed. I really am sorry.”

Now that he said it, Dean realized he could smell the burgers. And they smelled pretty good. His stomach growled audibly and he flushed in embarrassment, still hiding halfway behind the door.

“You can keep it,” Cas offered graciously. “I’ll go.” 

Dean sighed. This was a stupid decision. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be talking to anyone, let alone Castiel. Still, he stepped back, opening the door wider. 

“Come on in.”

“Dean, you don’t have to do that,” he insisted. “I really– I wasn’t trying to sleep with you.” 

“Just get in here. Before the entire floor figures out what’s going on.”

The alpha hesitated, staring at him earnestly, but eventually he stepped through the door. 

“How’d you manage to talk to Sam anyway?” Dean asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Cas stood awkwardly just inside the door, like he was afraid to come further inside. He looked around, uncertain, and then seemed to decide on staying rooted to the spot. 

The room smelled like Dean. The steam from his shower was still dissipating. Dean thanked his stars that he hadn’t jerked off in there for once. He could tell Cas was trying not to breathe in too deeply. 

“He,” Cas said, catching up to the question a few beats later. “In the men’s room. He approached me, I promise. And I know I shouldn’t have listened to him.” He looked at Dean, innocent and imploring. “I guess I was just hoping for it, and it was what I wanted to hear. I’m–”

“Sorry. Yeah, I know,” Dean waved off the apology. “Don’t be. It’s not really that– I was mad about some other stuff. I jumped to some conclusions, too.” He considered what this must look like to Castiel and added, “I didn’t tell Sam to find you. I‘m gonna kill that little asshole.” 

Before Cas could respond, Dean’s stomach growled again.

“You should eat.” It was sweet how concerned Cas seemed. He took a hesitant step, glancing around the room again. It wasn’t as nice as Castiel’s suite had been last time. There was just a bed, with a TV on the wall in front of it, and a small table with two chairs to the corner. On this campaign only John Winchester got the fancy digs. 

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Dean agreed, heading for the table. He sat carefully, wrapping the robe more securely around himself watching as Cas unpacked a whole meal.

He’d brought burgers as mentioned, but also fries and drinks. And a small box that he left unopened. 

“I didn’t know if you’d like–” Cas started, taking the chair opposite him. He broke off with a smile when he realized Dean was already chomping down, groaning appreciatively at the salt and grease. 

“No, this is good. Thanks Cas.” Dean paused to attack the fries briefly. 

They ate in silence until Dean paused to take a drink. He tried not to focus on the way Cas licked a stray smear of ketchup off his thumb.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cas asked.

“Huh?”

“You said you were angry about something else,” Cas reminded him helpfully. 

“Oh. Yeah. No. Long story.” Definitely not a good idea. Dean could feel his mood already start to sour again. It was too fresh. Besides, there was something else he needed clarification on. “So, walk me through this again. You met Sam in the bathroom and he just told you where I was staying?” 

“Well, we exchanged pleasantries first. Then he said you wanted to see me. He said you were waiting for me to make a move.” Cas shook his head. “And– hearing it now, it sounds like an obvious deception. It’s just that, well, every time we part, I feel like I should’ve said something more. It always seems to be…” 

Cas trailed off, fiddling with the paper wrappings of their fast food. 

“Incomplete?” Dean prompted. 

Cas looked up, met Dean’s gaze head on, and sighed with something like relief. His shoulders sagged and the corner of his mouth ticked up minutely in a rueful smile. “Yes. Exactly.”

Scent-bonding tended to have that effect. Dean knew he should say it, let the words snap apart this… tether between them. Instead, a knock at his door interrupted them. 

Cas started, glancing at the door in panic. 

“It’s just room service. They’ll leave it outside,” Dean assured him. Grinning, he added, “Didn’t realize I had a date.” 

Cas surprised him by settling into a thoughtful frown. “I fantasized about it. Well, about taking you to dinner. That was part of what made it feel like unfinished business.”

Dean couldn’t help the swell of affection, but he tried to play it off. They had to be pragmatic. They shouldn’t even be here. “You’re a big softie, huh? But Cas, c’mon. We gotta be realistic about this.”

“We’re on opposite sides.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And then there’s your... secret.”

Dean looked away, trying to suppress the hot brand of shame. “Yep.”

“I’m sorry.” Cas could smell it on him, which made this all oh, only about a hundred times worse. 

“It’s fine,” Dean lied. “This is nice.” 

“It was selfish of me,” he insisted earnestly. He looked so guilty, Dean would’ve chuckled if he couldn’t smell it on him too.

“Look, I didn’t tell Sam to find you or set us up or whatever, but I’d be lying if I said – look, it’s, it’s good to see you, Cas.” He bit his lip to keep from admitting more, because if he could, he’d ask to keep seeing Cas, consequences be damned. 

A silence stretched between them while Castiel bored holes in the carpet with his stare. “Dean. May I ask you a question?”

“I guess,” Dean huffed, taken aback.

“You told Sam about us.”

“That’s not a question, but yeah. He covered for me when I… stayed over. Last time.” 

Castiel nodded. “I have another more personal question, but you don’t have to answer. Why is it a secret? Your secondary gender? John is a progressive man, unlike Michael.” 

It wasn’t the question that was immediately upsetting. It was the fact that the question laid bare. John was actually, to most people, a progressive man. That was the perception. Maybe it was the truth. Progressive implied a state of change.  _ Progressing _ . Not progressed. Not yet all the way there. Not ready for an omega son. Certainly not a firstborn. Definitely not one that passed for an alpha, and jumped into bed with any willing body.

Dean settled for saying, “They’re actually not that different.” 

That was probably the most straight-forward way to put it.

“They could’ve fooled the country,” Castiel said, with a wry smile.

“Yeah, well.” Dean wiped his hands on a napkin, having polished off the last of that very good burger. “Why’d you come here, Cas? I mean, really. I dunno what’s worse– people finding out you’re seeing an alpha, or people finding out you’re seeing  _ me _ , and realizing I’m not an alpha.”

Castiel carefully packed away their trash (actually folding the wrappings neatly) in the paper bag that previously carried their dinner. He took his time formulating an answer. 

“It’s selfish. I understand we– it’s not a possibility for us, but when I saw the opportunity to have one more memory with you…” he trailed off with a sigh. “I don’t care what people think about me. I’m forced to care about what Michael wants. I hope you can believe me.”

“Forced to?” Dean frowned. “Why?”

For the first time all evening, a Cas dodged the question. “It’s complicated.”

Alright, then.

On any other day Dean would chip away at that. Or stop short. Walk away. Today, he was just too tired to double down. And what did Cas call it? Selfish? He’d like to be a little selfish. 

“What’s in this?” Dean asked, tapping the unopened box. 

Cas pounced at the distraction. “It’s dessert. It’s called butter cake. I was informed it’s a St. Louis ‘thing.’”

“There’s just one.”

“I didn’t know if you’d like it,” Cas said sheepishly.

“I’m really more of a pie guy,” Dean started, but Cas looked so crestfallen, he quickly added, “But I can keep an open mind. Split it?” 

He ignored Cas’ weak protests and flipped the box open. Cas handed him a fork and Dean immediately regretted offering to share. He groaned in pleasure, relishing the way the sugar practically melted on his tongue. 

“I take it back,” he said with his mouth full. “I’m a cake guy ‘specially when the cake’s this good.”

The room smelled like happy alpha. Castiel was happy, actually happy, that he managed to please Dean. An alpha enjoying doing the parts people normally ascribed to omegas. Taking care of people, feeding them - Castiel flipped the idea on its head and suddenly, it was so obvious that it wasn’t a ‘thing’ specific to any designation at all. It was just a way to show caring. 

Dean registered distinctly that what he was feeling was completely new. He’d felt desired before but this was something else. This was like being seen as important. A priority. Cherished. And Castiel was smiling at Dean like… well. Like the sun shone out his ass. Like he hung the moon. Every frickin’ metaphor. It was enough to make him stop, enough to make his heart pound, because if the expression on Castiel’s face was any indication of the way he really felt then they were both doomed. 

He wanted to tell Castiel to quit it, but the words stick in his throat. So he does the next best thing. He asked, “You wanna watch a movie?” 

* * *

A phone rang, startling Dean awake.

It wasn’t his. He sat up groggily, and realized the sound was coming from beside him. It was coming from Cas. 

Dean shook him awake, gently at first, but roughly when the alpha just rolled away from him. “Answer the damn phone, Cas,” he said pointlessly as the ringing promptly cut out. It started up again a moment later. Dean grumpily shoved Cas, who finally got with the program and cracked his eyes open. 

Cas made the choice to sleep fully clothed, which seemed awfully uncomfortable in Dean’s opinion. It came in useful now though, because he simply fished the phone out of his jeans. Dean watched with growing interest as Cas squinted murderously at the screen and went from semi-conscious to alert and awake in half a second. 

“Yes,” he answered, sitting up and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed as though he hadn’t been dead to the world seconds ago. “Is everything alright?” 

Dean pushed the covers back and got to his feet, heading to the bathroom to relieve himself and give Cas some privacy. At some point during their strangely domestic date last night, he’d had the bright idea to shed the robe and put on a clean pair of boxers and an undershirt. He hadn’t packed anything casual and certainly not pajamas for such a short stay. It had seemed modest enough at two in the morning. Now, he felt strangely naked again, so he grabbed the hotel robe off the back of the chair on his way. 

It felt... normal. Good. Waking up next to Cas. 

Last night was good too. Different. It was clear as day Cas had no ulterior motive. He’d hesitated to even stay and watch  _ The Blues Brothers  _ with Dean, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed until Dean raided the mini bar. A couple of tiny whiskeys later, Cas finally moved to sit against the headboard. And then of course he fully passed out against Dean’s shoulder right before the car chase. 

Dean woke a few times in the night, unused to sharing his bed with someone. Benny had his own place, and despite a pretty active sex life, at the time, he also kept a pretty active work life, focused on building up his company. Usually that meant a quick, furtive rendezvous before Dean went back to the office to burn some midnight oil. At the time, Dean appreciated it. He passed for alpha at work, but he was an omega, and he constantly tried to prove himself equal to, or better than the alphas in the industry. 

But now, Dean can see it robbed his relationship of something special and important. This intimacy was different. It felt indescribably good. There was something secret and joyous about the simplicity of the heat of Cas’ body pressed against his back, layered with Cas’ scent muted and sleepy around him set to the soothing, drugging rhythm of Cas’ breathing. 

The last time he’d woken before the phone so rudely destroyed his soporific bliss, Cas had rolled away from him in his sleep, stealing the blankets as he went. Following a sleepy instinct, Dean turned to spoon him, shoving a leg between Cas’ and sliding an arm around his waist. Cas shimmied closer with a sleepy, inarticulate mumble and started to snore. Dean fell asleep dreaming of mornings spent waking slowly, cooking his alpha breakfast, kissing him between sips of coffee. It was a good dream. 

By the time Dean returned from the bathroom, Cas had hung up the phone. He was sitting where Dean left him with his head in his hands. 

“Everything okay?” Dean made himself ask even though the opposite seemed true. 

Cas sighed heavily before looking up at him. “Yes. Everything is alright. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Figured you owed me after running out on me the first time and not letting me stay the second.”

Dean meant for it to be a joke. He’d been smiling when he said it, but Cas of course hangs his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Dude. Stop apologizing, seriously.” Dean sat beside him, nudging him with a knee. “I was being a dick. Did you miss a flight or something?”

“No. I was going to spend the weekend here, actually. Well, at my hotel.” Castiel fidgeted with his phone, his scent betraying his nervousness. “I... wanted to buy you breakfast before I said goodbye. I’d planned for that. Unless, of course you didn’t want to see me last night. Dean, I know we’re going to part ways here. I need to, I want to tell you something. About me. About my life.” 

Dean could guess. This was why Castiel stayed trapped with Michael. It can’t be insignificant. And Cas really shouldn’t trust him with it. 

“Cas,” Dean reached out to squeeze the alpha’s knee. “You don’t have to. I mean it. Protect yourself.”

“I know.” Castiel took a steadying breath. “I have a son.”

“Oh.” Dean wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t that. He frowned, trying to do the mental math on Castiel’s short-lived marriage. 

“His name is Jack. He’ll be six soon. He’s not mine biologically, his parents passed when he was born, but for all intents and purposes, he is my son. I’ve adopted him formally and he lives with me.” Castiel lifted his chin defiantly, a challenge in his eyes. 

“... Okay?” Dean managed, fully confused. Was Michael against widower alphas adopting orphans now? Was Dean supposed to have a problem with it? He wasn’t sure why Cas was coming at this like he was reading his own sentencing. 

Cas’ shoulders slumped like someone cut his strings. “Everything I do, I do for him. That’s never going to change.”

“He’s your kid, so yeah, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Cas looked at him, torn between guilt and… fondness? He was smiling, so Dean took the win. “When you put it like that, it sounds so simple.”

“It  _ is _ simple, Cas,” Dean said, somewhat rattled that Cas really expected anything but complete understanding from him.

“Not in the Novak family. Have you heard of Luke Novak?”

Dean shook his head. 

“That’s by design. Michael was the eldest of us, but Luke was our father’s favorite. Luke was also… troubled.” Cas’ scent, warm and muted from sleep, turned heavy with the pain of old wounds. “He was mentally ill. That’s a fact. An often disputed fact, but had a professional been allowed to truly diagnose and help Luke, it would have been an established fact. And you know, that’s always challenging with a loved one. Luke was brilliant, but he had these problems, and there was a darkness in him.”

Cas scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “To cut a long story short - we failed him. Terribly. And Luke never recovered from that. Our father made a series of poor choices, but the worst one was having him committed. Luke broke out. I’m not certain how he met Kelly Kline, but by the time we found them, she was pregnant. She was an alpha.”

Dean winced. Alpha births were notoriously difficult. Commonly fatal. 

“I liked her,” Cas smiled, clearly recalling a fond memory. His scent sweetened a little. “She deserved better.”

“So Jack is,” Dean stopped, correcting himself. “Was. Your nephew.”

“Yes.” Cas finally looked at him. “Luke’s death was awful, but avoidable. It took us too long to understand him, to reach him. Kelly, on the other hand… there was nothing we could do. And Jack, well, his birth was a tragic, traumatic event, but I couldn’t let Michael get rid of him.” Cas growls, “I refused to let Jack suffer.” 

“Get rid of him?” Dean asked, half afraid to know.

“He wanted to put Jack up for adoption. Suppress his birth records. Michael was desperate to erase all traces of Luke from the family tree.” 

For a long moment, they stay silent. Dean didn’t know how he was expected to respond to that. He was sure Cas had heard every answer between praise for his sacrifices and condemnation for going against his family by protecting Jack. All he knew was that it was a shitty situation. 

“That’s messed up,” he said eventually. 

Cas’ smiled bitterly. “Yes.”

Not that Dean came from a shining paragon of good, healthy family dynamics, but he’s dead certain his mom would do anything for him and Sam. In a heartbeat. It wouldn’t even be a question in her mind. Dad might be more likely to sacrifice everything for Sam, but he’d probably go at least half as far for Dean, too. 

Dean chewed his lip, and then decided, fuck it. If Cas was willing to share something this big, then he could reciprocate.

“My dad thought I was sleeping with that chick from Michael’s campaign.” 

Cas frowned. “Who?”

“The one you sent to tell me where to meet you, in New York? Heather or something?”

“Hester?” Cas shook his head. “That’s absurd. She’s a low level staffer in the tech department. She happens to be a distantly related cousin, but I doubt Michael knows she exists.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point. You wanted to know what I was upset about before you showed up. My dad, he…” Unexpectedly, Dean trails off, struggling for words. It’s still so humiliating. “He’s always had a chip on his shoulder. When he was a kid, my grandad walked out on him and his mom. And then when he was dating my mom, her family disapproved of him. Even after they married, there was always something. He was ‘confused’, or he needed some space. Pretty sure he cheated on her a few times. I thought if I could just be what he wanted me to be, that would make it right, somehow. You know? And when I presented, that was the last straw for him.

“I think he felt cheated,” Dean said, coming to the realization as he explained it to Cas. “Alphas believe they’re owed things. Respect, sure, but other things too. The world conforms to their view of it. I got that way too a little, before I had the rug pulled out from under me. Difference was, we teach omegas to swallow that disappointment. Alphas like my dad and Michael– they don’t know what to do but destroy things that don’t go their way. I was just one more thing my dad thought he was owed but didn’t get. And that’s what he sees every time he looks at me.”

Cas listened intently, hanging on every word. He’d already figured it out, of course, if the dark, angry coil of his scent was any indication. “What did he do, Dean?”

It was Dean’s turn to smile. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Cas growled. 

“Hey.”

Cas dropped his gaze, sheepish. “He hurt you.”

“It’s okay.” Dean bumped Cas with his shoulder gently. It wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t known it at the time, but he probably shouldn’t have spent the previous night alone. So whether Cas realized it or not, he had helped. All the more reason to return the favor. 

“I’m telling you this because I think you’re doing the right thing. Sure it sucks being under Michael’s thumb but it sounds like Jack needs you. You’re a good dad, Cas, just by being there for him.” As much as it pains him to admit, a potential clandestine relationship with Cas doesn’t come close to being worth it if it meant ruining some poor kid’s life. “Don’t let…  _ this _ get in the way.” 

Cas stared for a long moment, his expression nearly unreadable. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” 

“You must not meet a lot of people then,” Dean joked poorly.

Cas’ shoulders seemed to collapse inwards. “I don’t. Most of the people I interact with are my brothers and my sister.” 

Dean bumped into him gently, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. Or kiss him. “You gotta stop hanging out with your family, man. They sound like assholes.” 

“You might be right in that assessment,” Cas murmured, but his gaze abruptly took on a sharper glint.   


Maybe Dean still had toothpaste on his chin. “What?”

“I’d like to kiss you now,” Cas said seriously. “May I?” 

Dean huffed a laugh. “Weirdo.” 

Cas reached out, lifting his chin with a finger. “Is that a yes?” 

Swallowing, Dean licked his lips and nodded. Cas cupped his cheek and Dean closed his eyes, sighing as he sank into the kiss. Of course it felt good, but it was more than that. Cas was a damn good kisser, lips soft and warm, somehow managing to not be entirely gross despite his morning breath. The tension bled out of Dean’s shoulders the longer they kissed, and before long they were lying together, making out slowly. 

This was different from any time before, somehow better  _ and _ worse. When they hadn’t known, during his heat, it was a precursor to more. The second time had been urgent and desperate, and Dean at least, had wanted to confirm he hadn’t been imagining things. This was wonderful, though. Savoring. Certain. He’d hold this moment in his mind for a long time. 

“Are you headed back to DC?” Cas asked softly, nuzzling his chin. 

Dean sighed regretfully. “Yeah. My flight leaves this afternoon.” 

He’d have left sooner but it was the weekend and he wanted to sleep in for once. Turned out to be a good decision, because now he got to savor a few extra hours with Cas. He blinked as the air between them turned heavy with expectation. For some dumb reason, instead of pulling away, he reached out to curl an arm around Cas’ shoulders.

“You’re spending the weekend here, right? Got any fun plans with Jack?”

Cas slung a leg over Dean’s hips, pulling him closer. “My assistant put together an itinerary.”

Dean made a face. 

“I know. It’s not ideal,” Cas admitted, somewhat embarrassed. “I don’t usually have time to spare, let alone time to plan activities for a potential break. I can only hope there’s a visit to the zoo, because Jack loves animals.”

“Quick pro tip, Cas. Itineraries? Not fun.” Dean grinned when Cas rolled his eyes. “There’s hope for you, though, ‘cuz zoos? Definitely fun. I remember the last time I went to one. It was the one in Chicago, and Sam was ten, I think. And this rhino wouldn’t stop shitting its brains out. I mean, I dunno how much rhinos are supposed to crap, but it was a lot of poop. Like the most poop you can imagine? It was more than that. Poor Sammy nearly got knocked out by the stink, but mom found it hysterical.” He chuckled at the memory, enjoying the rumble of Cas’ answering laughter against his chest. “Oh, it’s been too long.”

“You could go with us,” Cas suggested, his blue eyes practically twinkling. “Today.”

For a second, Dean believed he was serious, but no. He couldn’t possibly be. It wouldn’t make any sense. 

“Oh yeah? What about your itinerary? You okay with me messing it all up?”

“Of course. I get the sense that you’re a frequent and expert disruptor of the best laid plans.” 

Dean smacked him in the chest. “Damn straight.” 

“Case in point,” Cas said, kissing him again and breaking his brain in the process. “I wanted to buy you breakfast and here we are.”

“Hey, you started this. I’m always down for breakfast.”

Cas smiled, squeezing his hip, but then he bit his lip, hesitant. “I meant it,” he lowered his gaze like he was afraid of being shot down. “If, if you want. You’re probably quite busy though, but if you can make time, I’d like it. And I realize that it’s a lot but I thought, if there’s a chance...” he trailed off and shrugged. “It could be nice.” 

“You want  _ me _ to meet Jack?” Cas started to nod, so Dean elaborated, “You want your kid to meet a guy you slept with twice, and you’re probably never gonna see again– how would you even explain who I am?”

“You’re a friend,” Cas said simply and something about that strikes Dean in the chest like a knife. “That’s all Jack would need to know.” He looked away. “But you’re right. It’s stupid.”

“It is stupid,” Dean agreed, rolling away from Cas, ignoring the need to quell the hurt scent wafting off the alpha with his mouth. “Lucky for you, stupid’s my middle name. Let me see what I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading this, thank you so much for your patience. These are strange times and between pandemic depression and the subject matter, this fic seems... inadequate and maybe too simplistic given where we are. On the other hand, I'm tired of not finishing things and this is as far as I've written (I've plotted further out), but I thought I'd share anyway.


End file.
